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GIFT  or 
John  H»   Mee 


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7 


THE    COMEDY   OF  HUMAN  LIFE 
By   H.  DE   BALZAC 


SCENES    FROM    PRIVATE    LIFE 


THE  MARRIAGE   CONTRACT 

A   DOUBLE   LIFE 

THE   PEACE   OF   A    HOME 


BALZAC'S     NOVELS. 

Translated  by  Miss  K.  P.  Wormeley. 

Already  Published: 
PERE     GORIOT. 
DUCHESSE     DE     LANGEAIS. 
RISE  AND  FALL  OF  CESAR  BIROTTEAU. 
EUGENIE     GRANDET. 
COUSIN     PONS. 
THE     COUNTRY     DOCTOR. 
THE     TWO     BROTHERS. 

THE  ALKAHEST  (La  Recherche  deTAbsolu). 
MODESTE     MIGNON. 

THE  MAGIC    SKIN  (La  Peau  de  Chagrin). 
COUSIN    BETTE. 
LOUIS     LAMBERT. 
BUREAUCRACY  (Les  Employe's). 
SERAPHITA. 

SONS    OF    THE    SOIL   (Les  Paysans). 
FAME    AND    SORROW    (Chat-qui-pelote). 
THE   LILY    OF    THE    VALLEY. 
URSULA. 

AN   HISTORICAL   MYSTERY. 
ALBERT    SAVARUS. 
BALZAC  :    A   MEMOIR. 
PIERRETTE. 
THE    CHOUANS. 
LOST    ILLUSIONS. 
A  GREAT   MAN   OF   THE    PROVINCES  IN 

PARIS. 
THE  BROTHERHOOD  OF   CONSOLATION. 
THE    VILLAGE    RECTOR. 
MEMOIRS    OF    TWO     YOUNG     MARRIED 

WOMEN. 
CATHERINE    DE'    MEDICI. 
LUCIEN   DE    RUBEMPRE. 

FERRAGUS,  CHIEF  OF  THE  DEVORANTS. 
A   START   IN   LIFE. 
THE    MARRIAGE    CONTRACT. 
BEATRIX. 
DAUGHTER   OF   EVE. 

♦ 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS,    Publishers, 
BOSTON. 


HONORE    DE    BALZAC 


TRANSLATKD    BY 


KATHARINE    PRESCOTT    WORMELEY 


THE 


Marriage   Contract 


ROBERTS      BROTHERS 


3     SOMERSET     STREET 


BOSTON 
1895 


GiFT  OF 

Copyright,  1895, 
By  Roberts  Brothers. 


All  rights  reserved. 


Clnt'btrsttg  flrrsa: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS. 


THE  MARRIAGE  CONTRACT. 

PAGE 

I.    Pro  and  Con 1 

II.     The  Pink  of  Fashion 16 

III.  The  Marriage  Contract  —  First  Day    .     .  38 

IV.  The  Marriage  Contract  —  Second  Day  .     .  93 
V.     The  Marriage  Contract  —  Third  Day  .     .  117 

VI.     Conclusion 137 

A   DOUBLE   LIFE. 

I.     The  Second  Life 183 

II.     The  First  Life 226 

III.     Result 270 

THE  PEACE  OF   A   HOME 283 


p«n 


96258 


■ 

.     - 

THE    MAEEIAGE    CONTEACT. 


TO    IiOSSINI. 


I. 


PRO    AND    CON. 

Monsieur  de  Manerville,  the  father,  was  a  worthy 
Norman  gentleman,  well  known  to  the  Marechal  de 
Richelieu,  who  married  him  to  one  of  the  richest  heir- 
esses of  Bordeaux  in  the  days  when  the  old  duke 
reigned  in  Guienne  as  governor.  The  Norman  then 
sold  the  estate  he  owned  in  Bessin,  and  became  a 
Gascon,  allured  by  the  beauty  of  the  chateau  de  Lans- 
trac,  a  delightful  residence  owned  by  his  wife.  Dur- 
ing the  last  days  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XV.,  he  bought 
the  post  of  major  of  the  Gate  Guards,  and  lived  till 
1813,  having  by  great  good  luck  escaped  the  dangers 
of  the  Revolution  in  the  following  manner. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  year,  1790,  he  went  to  Mar- 
tinque,  where  his  wife  had  interests,  leaving  the  man- 
agement of  his  property  in  Gascogne  to  an  honest  man, 
a  notary's  clerk,  named  Mathias,  who  was  inclined  to 
—  or  at  any  rate  did  —  give  into  the  new  ideas.  On 
his  return  the  Comte  de  Manerville  found  his  possessions 


2  The  Marriage   Contract. 

intact  and  well-managed.  This  sound  result  was  the 
fruit  produced  by  grafting  the  Gascon  on  the  Norman. 

Madame  de  Manerville  died  in  1810.  Having 
learned  the  importance  of  worldly  goods  through  the 
dissipations  of  his  youth,  and,  giving  them,  like  many 
another  old  man,  a  higher  place  than  they  really  hold 
in  life,  Monsieur  de  Manerville  became  increasingly 
economical,  miserly,  and  sordid.  Without  reflecting 
that  the  avarice  of  parents  prepares  the  way  for  the 
prodigalities  of  children,  he  allowed  almost  nothing  to 
his  son,  although  that  son  was  an  only  child. 

Paul  de  Manerville,  coming  home  from  the  college 
of  Vendome  in  1810,  lived  under  close  paternal  discipline 
for  three  years.  The  tyranny  by  which  the  old  man  of 
seventy  oppressed  his  heir  influenced,  necessarily,  a 
heart  and  a  character  which  were  not  yet  formed. 
Paul,  the  son,  without  lacking  the  physical  courage 
which  is  vital  in  the  air  of  Gascony,  dared  not  struggle 
against  his  father,  and  consequently  lost  that  faculty 
of  resistance  which  begets  moral  courage.  His 
thwarted  feelings  were  driven  to  the  depths  of  his 
heart,  where  they  remained  without  expression ;  later, 
when  he  felt  them  to  be  out  of  harmony  with 
the  maxims  of  the  world,  he  could  only  think  rightly 
and  act  mistakenly.  He  was  capable  of  fighting  for  a 
mere  word  or  look,  yet  he  trembled  at  the  thought  of 
dismissing  a  servant,  —  his  timidity  showing  itself  in 
those  contests  only  which  required  a  persistent  will. 
Capable  of  doing  great  things  to  fly  from  persecution, 
he  would  never  have  prevented  it  by  systematic  oppo- 
sition, nor  have  faced  it  with  the  steady  employment  of 
force  of  will.     Timid  in  thought,  bold  in  actions,  he 


The  Marriage   Contract  3 

long  preserved  that  inward  simplicity  which  makes 
a  man  the  dupe  and  the  voluntary  victim  of  things 
against  which  certain  souls  hesitate  to  revolt,  prefer- 
ring to  endure  them  rather  than  complain.  He  was,  in 
point  of  fact,  imprisoned  in  his  father's  old  mansion, 
for  he  had  not  enough  money  to  consort  with  young  men ; 
he  envied  their  pleasures  while  unable  to  share  them. 

The  old  gentleman  took  him  every  evening,  in 
an  old  carriage  drawn  by  ill-harnessed  old  horses, 
attended  by  ill-dressed  old  servants,  to  royalist 
houses,  where  he  met  a  society  composed  of  the 
relics  of  the  parliamentary  nobility  and  the  martial 
nobility.  These  two  nobilities  coalescing  after  the 
Revolution  for  the  purpose  of  resisting  imperial 
influence,  had  now  transformed  themselves  into  a 
landed  aristocracy.  Crushed  by  the  vast  and  swelling 
fortunes  of  the  maritime  cities,  this  Faubourg  Saint- 
Germain  of  Bordeaux  responded  by  lofty  disdain  to 
the  sumptuous  displays  of  commerce,  government  ad- 
ministrations, and  the  military.  Too  young  to  under- 
stand social  distinctions  and  the  necessities  underlying 
the  apparent  assumption  which  they  create,  Paul  was 
bored  to  death  among  these  ancients,  unaware  that  the 
connections  of  his  youth  would  eventually  secure  to 
him  that  aristocratic  pre-eminence  which  Frenchmen 
will  forever  desire. 

He  found  some  slight  compensations  for  the  dul- 
ness  of  these  evenings  in  certain  manual  exercises 
which  always  delight  young  men,  and  which  his  father 
enjoined  upon  him.  The  old  gentleman  considered  that 
to  know  the  art  of  fencing  and  the  use  of  arms,  to  ride 
well   on   horseback,  to   play   tennis,   to  acquire  good 


4  The  Marriage   Contract. 

manners,  —  in  short,  to  possess  all  the  frivolous  accom- 
plishments of  the  old  nobility,  —  made  a  young  man  of 
the  present  day  a  finished  gentleman.  Accordingly, 
Paul  took  a  fencing-lesson  every  morning,  went  to  the 
riding-school,  and  practised  in  a  pistol-gallery.  The  rest 
of  his  time  he  spent  in  reading  novels,  for  his  father 
would  never  have  allowed  the  more  abstruse  studies 
now  considered  necessary  to  finish  an  education. 

So  monotonous  a  life  would  soon  have  killed  the 
poor  youth  if  the  death  of  the  old  man  had  not  deliv- 
ered him  from  this  tyranny  at  the  moment  when  it  was 
becoming  intolerable.  Paul  found  himself  in  posses- 
sion of  considerable  capital,  accumulated  by  his  father's 
avarice,  together  with  landed  estates  in  the  best  pos- 
sible condition.  But  he  now  held  Bordeaux  in  horror ; 
neither  did  he  like  Lanstrac,  where  his  father  had 
taken  him  to  spend  the  summers,  employing  his  whole 
time  from  morning  till  night  in  hunting. 

As  soon  as  the  estate  was  fairly  settled,  the  young 
heir,  eager  for  enjoyment,  bought  consols  with  his 
capital,  left  the  management  of  the  landed  property  to 
old  Mathias,  his  father's  notary,  and  spent  the  next 
six  years  away  from  Bordeaux.  At  first  he  was  at- 
tached to  the  French  embassy  at  Naples ;  after  that 
he  was  secretary  of  legation  at  Madrid,  and  then  in 
London,  —  making  in  this  way  the  tour  of  Europe. 

After  seeing  the  world  and  life,  after  losing  several 
illusions,  after  dissipating  all  the  loose  capital  which 
his  father  had  amassed,  there  came  a  time  when,  in 
order  to  continue  his  way  of  life,  Paul  was  forced  to 
draw  upon  the  territoral  revenues  which  his  notary  was 
laying  by.     At  this  critical  moment,  seized  by  one  of 


The  Marriage   Contract.  5 

the  so-called  virtuous  impulses,  he  determined  to  leave 
Paris,  return  to  Bordeaux,  regulate  his  affairs,  lead  the 
life  of  a  country  gentleman  at  Lanstrac,  improve  his 
property,  marry,  and  become,  in  the  end,  a  deputy. 

Paul  was  a  count ;  nobility  was  once  more  of  matri- 
monial value ;  he  could,  and  he  ought  to  make  a  good 
marriage.  While  many  women  desire  a  title,  many 
others  like  to  marry  a  man  to  whom  a  knowledge  of 
life  is  familiar.  Now  Paul  had  acquired,  in  exchange 
for  the  sum  of  seven  hundred  thousand  francs  squan- 
dered in  six  years,  that  possession,  which  cannot  be 
bought  and  is  practically  of  more  value  than  gold  and 
silver ;  a  knowledge  which  exacts  long  study,  proba- 
tion, examinations,  friends,  enemies,  acquaintances, 
certain  manners,  elegance  of  form  and  demeanor, 
a  graceful  and  euphonious  name,  —  a  knowledge, 
moreover,  which  means  many  love-affairs,  duels,  bets 
lost  on  a  race-course,  disillusions,  deceptions,  annoy- 
ances, toils,  and  a  vast  variety  of  undigested  pleasures. 
In  short,  he  had  become  what  is  called  elegant.  But 
in  spite  of  his  mad  extravagance  he  had  never  made 
himself  a  mere  fashionable  man.  In  the  burlesque 
army  of  men  of  the  world,  the  man  of  fashion  holds 
the  place  of  a  marshal  of  France,  the  man  of  elegance 
is  the  equivalent  of  a  lieutenant-general.  Paul  enjoyed 
his  lesser  reputation,  of  elegance,  and  knew  well  how  to 
sustain  it.  His  servants  were  well-dressed,  his  equi- 
pages were  cited,  his  suppers  had  a  certain  vogue ;  in 
short,  his  bachelor  establishment  was  counted  among 
the  seven  or  eight  whose  splendor  equalled  that  of  the 
finest  houses  in  Paris. 

But  —  he  had  not  caused  the  wretchedness  of  any 


x 

6  The  Marriage   Contract. 

woman ;  he  gambled  without  losing ;  his  luck  was  not 
notorious ;  he  was  far  too  upright  to  deceive  or  mislead 
any  one,  no  matter  who,  even  a  wanton ;  never  did  he 
leave  his  billets-doux  lying  about,  and  he  possessed  no 
coffer  or  desk  for  love-letters  which  his  friends  were  at 
liberty  to  read  while  he  tied  his  cravat  or  trimmed  his 
beard.  Moreover,  not  willing  to  dip  into  his  Guienne 
property,  he  had  not  that  bold  extravagance  which 
leads  to  great  strokes  and  calls  attention  at  any  cost 
to  the  proceedings  of  a  young  man.  Neither  did  he 
borrow  money,  but  he  had  the  folly  to  lend  to  friends, 
who  then  deserted  him  and  spoke  of  him  no  more  either 
for  good  or  evil.  He  seemed  to  have  regulated  his  dis- 
sipations methodically.  The  secret  of  his  character  lay 
in  bis  father's  tyranny,  which  had  made  him,  as  it  were, 
a  social  mongrel. 

So,  one  morning,  he  said  to  a  friend  named  de 
Marsay,  who  afterwards  became  celebrated :  — 

"  My  dear  fellow,  life  has  a  meaning." 

u  You  must  be  twenty-seven  years  of  age  before  you 
can  find  it  out,"  replied  de  Marsay,  laughing. 

"  Well,  I  am  twenty-seven  ;  and  precisely  because  I 
am  twenty-seven  I  mean  to  live  the  life  of  a  country 
gentleman  at  Lanstrac.  I  '11  transport  my  belongings 
to  Bordeaux  into  my  father's  old  mansion,  and  I  '11 
spend  three  months  of  the  year  in  Paris  in  this  house, 
which  I  shall  keep.' 

"  Will  you  marry? 

"  I  shall  marry." 

"  I  'm  your  friend,  as  you  know,  my  old  Paul,"  said 
de  Marsay,  after  a  moment's  silence,  "  and  I  say  to 
you :   settle  down  into  a  worthy  father  and  husband 


The  Marriage   Contract,  7 

and  you'll  be  ridiculous  for  the  rest  of  your  days. 
If  you  could  be  happy  and  ridiculous,  the  thing  might 
be  thought  of  ;  but  you  will  not  be  happy.  You  have  n't 
a  strong  enough  wrist  to  drive  a  household.  I'll  do 
you  justice  and  say  you  are  a  perfect  horseman ;  no 
one  knows  as  well  as  you  how  to  pick  up  or  throw  down 
the  reins,  and  make  a  horse  prance,  and  sit  firm  to  the 
saddle.  But,  my  dear  fellow,  marriage  is  another  thing. 
I  see  you  now,  led  along  at  a  slapping  pace  by  Madame 
la  Comtesse  de  Manerville,  going  whither  you  would 
not,  oftener  at  a  gallop  than  a  trot,  and  presently  un- 
horsed !  —  yes,  unhorsed  into  a  ditch  and  your  legs 
broken.  Listen  to  me.  You  still  have  some  forty-odd 
thousand  francs  a  year  from  your  property  in  the 
Gironde.  Good.  Take  your  horses  and  servants  and 
furnish  your  house  in  Bordeaux ;  you  can  be  king  of 
Bordeaux,  you  can  promulgate  there  the  edicts  that  we 
put  forth  in  Paris ;  you  can  be  the  correspondent  of 
our  stupidities.  Very  good.  Play  the  rake  in  the  pro- 
vinces ;  better  still,  commit  follies ;  follies  may  win  you 
celebrity.  But  —  don't  marry.  Who  marries  now-a- 
days?  Only  merchants,  for  the  sake  of  their  capital, 
or  to  be  two  to  drag  the  cart ;  only  peasants  who  want 
to  produce  children  to  work  for  them  ;  only  brokers  and 
notaries  who  want  a  wife's  dot  to  pay  for  their  practice ; 
only  miserable  kings  who  are  forced  to  continue  their 
miserable  dynasties.  But  we  are  exempt  from  the 
pack,  and  you  want  to  shoulder  it !  And  why  do  you 
want  to  marry?  You  ought  to  give  your  best  friend 
your  reasons.  In  the  first  place,  if  you  marry  an 
heiress  as  rich  as  yourself,  eighty  thousand  francs  a 
year  for  two  is  not  the  same  thing  as  forty  thousand 


8  The  Marriage    Contract. 

francs  a  year  for  one,  because  the  two  are  soon  three 
or  four  when  the  children  come.  You  have  n't  surely 
any  love  for  that  silly  race  of  Manerville  which  would 
only  hamper  you  ?  Are  you  ignorant  of  what  a  father 
and  mother  have  to  be?  Marriage,  my  old  Paul,  is  the 
silliest  of  all  the  social  immolations ;  our  children  alone 
profit  by  it,  and  don't  know  its  price  till  their  horses 
are  nibbling  the  flowers  on  our  grave.  Do  you  regret 
your  father,  that  old  tyrant  who  made  your  first  years 
wretched?  How  can  you  be  sure  that  your  children 
will  love  you?  The  very  care  you  take  of  their  educa- 
tion, your  precautions  for  their  happiness,  your  neces- 
sary sternness  will  lessen  their  affection.  Children 
love  a  weak  or  a  prodigal  father,  whom  they  will  despise 
in  after  years.  You  '11  live  betwixt  fear  and  contempt. 
No  man  is  a  good  head  of  a  family  merely  because  he 
wants  to  be.  Look  round  on  all  our  friends  and  name 
to  me  one  whom  you  would  like  to  have  for  a  son. 
We  have  known  a  good  many  who  dishonor  their 
names.  Children,  my  dear  Paul,  are  the  most  difficult 
kind  of  merchandise  to  take  care  of.  Yours,  you  think, 
will  be  angels ;  well,  so  be  it !  Have  you  ever  sounded 
the  gulf  which  lies  between  the  lives  of  a  bachelor  and 
a  married  man?  Listen.  As  a  bachelor  you  can  say 
to  yourself  :  '  I  shall  never  exhibit  more  than  a  certain 
amount  of  the  ridiculous ;  the  public  will  think  of  me 
what  I  choose  it  to  think.'  Married,  you  '11  drop  into 
the  infinitude  of  the  ridiculous  !  Bachelor,  you  can  make 
your  own  happiness ;  you  enjoy  some  to-day,  you  do 
without  it  to-morrow;  married,  you  must  take  it  as  it 
comes ;  and  the  day  you  want  it  you  will  have  to  go 
without  it.      Marry,  and   you'll   grow   a   blockhead; 


The  Marriage   Contract.  9 

you  '11  calculate  dowries ;  you  '11  talk  morality,  public 
and  religious ;  you  '11  think  young  men  immoral  and 
dangerous ;  in  short,  you  '11  become  a  social  academi- 
cian. It 's  pitiable  !  The  old  bachelor  whose  property 
the  heirs  are  waiting  for,  who  fights  to  his  last  breath 
with  his  nurse  for  a  spoonful  of  drink,  is  blest  in  com- 
parison with  a  married  man.  I  'm  not  speaking  of  all 
that  will  happen  to  annoy,  bore,  irritate,  coerce,  op- 
pose, tyrannize,  narcotize,  paralyze,  and  idiotize  a  man 
in  marriage,  in  that  struggle  of  two  beings  always  in  one 
another's  presence,  bound  forever,  who  have  coupled 
each  other  under  the  strange  impression  that  they  were 
suited.  No,  to  tell  you  those  things  would  be  merely  a 
repetition  of  Boileau,  and  we  know  him  by  heart.  Still, 
I  '11  forgive  your  absurd  idea  if  you  will  promise  me  to 
marry  en  grand  seigneur  ;  to  entail  your  property ;  to 
have  two  legitimate  children  j  to  give  your  wife  a  house 
and  household  absolutely  distinct  from  yours  ;  to  meet 
her  only  in  society,  and  never  to  return  from  a  journey 
without  sending  her  a  courier  to  announce  it.  Two  hun- 
dred thousand  francs  a  year  will  suffice  for  such  a  life 
and  your  antecedents  will  enable  you  to  marry  some  rich 
English  woman  hungry  for  a  title.  That 's  an  aristo- 
cratic life  which  seems  to  me  thoroughly  French ;  the 
only  life  in  which  we  can  retain  the  respect  and 
friendship  of  a  woman ;  the  only  life  which  distin- 
guishes a  man  from  the  present  crowd,  —  in  short,  the 
only  life  for  which  a  young  man  should  even  think  of 
resigning  his  bachelor  blessings.  Thus  established, 
the  Comte  de  Manerville  may  advise  his  epoch,  place 
himself  above  the  world,  and  be  nothing  less  than  a 
minister  or  an  ambassador.     Ridicule  can  never  touch 


10  The  Marriage   Contract. 

him ;  he  has  gained  the  social  advantages  of  marriage 
while  keeping  all  the  privileges  of  a  bachelor." 

"But,  my  good  friend,  I  am  not  de  Marsay;  I  am 
plainly,  as  you  yourself  do  me  the  honor  to  say,  Paul  de 
Manerville,  worthy  father  and  husband,  deputy  of  the 
Centre,  possibly  peer  of  France,  —  a  destiny  extremely 
commonplace  ;  but  I  am  modest  and  I  resign  myself." 

"Yes,  but  your  wife,"  said  the  pitiless  de  Marsay, 
44  will  she  resign  herself?" 

"  My  wife,  my  dear  fellow,  will  do  as  I  wish." 

"Ah!  my  poor  friend,  is  that  where  you  are? 
Adieu,  Paul.  Henceforth,  I  refuse  to  respect  you. 
One  word  more,  however,  for  I  cannot  agree  coldly  to 
your  abdication.  Look  and  see  in  what  the  strength 
of  our  position  lies.  A  bachelor  with  only  six  thou- 
sand francs  a  year  remaining  to  him  has  at  least  his 
reputation  for  elegance  and  the  memory  of  success. 
Well,  even  that  fantastic  shadow  has  enormous  value 
in  it.  Life  still  offers  many  chances  to  the  unmarried 
man.  Yes,  he  can  aim  at  anything.  But  marriage, 
Paul,  is  the  social  '  Thus  far  shalt  thou  go  and  no 
farther.'  Once  married  you  can  never  be  anything 
but  what  you  then  are  —  unless  your  wife  should  deign 
to  care  for  you." 

"But,"  said  Paul,  "  you  are  crushing  me  down  with 
exceptional  theories.  I  am  tired  of  living  for  others ; 
of  having  horses  merely  to  exhibit  them ;  of  doing  all 
things  for  the  sake  of  what  may  be  said  of  them ;  of 
wasting  my  substance  to  keep  fools  from  crying  out : 
4  Dear,  dear !  Paul  is  still  driving  the  same  carriage. 
What  has  he  done  with  his  fortune?  Does  he  squan- 
der it?     Does  he  gamble  at  the  Bourse?     No,  he's  a 


TJie  Marriage   Contract.  11 

millionnaire.  Madame  such  a  one  is  mad  about  him. 
He  sent  to  England  for  a  harness  which  is  certainly  the 
handsomest  in  all  Paris.  The  four-horse  equipages  of 
Messieurs  de  Marsay  and  de  Manerville  were  much 
noticed  at  Longchamps ;  the  harness  was  perfect '  — 
in  short,  the  thousand  silly  things  with  which  a  crowd 
of  idiots  lead  us  by  the  nose.  Believe  me,  my  dear 
Henri,  I  admire  your  power,  but  I  don't  envy  it.  You 
know  how  to  judge  of  life ;  you  think  and  act  as  a 
statesman ;  you  are  able  to  place  yourself  above  all 
ordinary  laws,  received  ideas,  adopted  conventions, 
and  acknowledged  prejudices ;  in  short,  you  can  grasp 
the  profits  of  a  situation  in  which  I  should  find  nothing 
but  ill-luck.  Your  cool,  systematic,  possibly  true 
deductions  are,  to  the  eyes  of  the  masses,  shockingly  im- 
moral. I  belong  to  the  masses.  I  must  play  my 
game  of  life  according  to  the  rules  of  the  society  in 
which  I  am  forced  to  live.  While  putting  yourself 
above  all  human  things  on  peaks  of  ice,  you  still  have 
feelings  ;  but  as  for  me,  I  should  freeze  to  death.  The 
life  of  that  great  majority,  to  which  I  belong  in  my 
commonplace  way,  is  made  up  of  emotions  of  which  I 
now  have  need.  Often  a  man  coquets  with  a  dozen 
women  and  obtains  none.  Then,  whatever  be  his 
strength,  his  cleverness,  his  knowledge  of  the  world, 
he  undergoes  convulsions,  in  which  he  is  crushed  as 
between  two  gates.  For  my  part,  I  like  the  peaceful 
chances  and  changes  of  life ;  I  want  that  wholesome 
existence  in  which  we  find  a  woman  always  at  our 
side." 

"  A  trifle  indecorous,  your  marriage !  "  exclaimed  de 
Marsay. 


12  The  Marriage   Contract. 

Paul  was  not  to  be  put  out  of  countenance,  and 
continued  :  ' '  Laugh  if  you  like ;  I  shall  feel  myself  a 
happy  man  when  my  valet  enters  my  room  in  the  morn- 
ing and  says :  '  Madame  is  awaiting  monsieur  for 
breakfast ;  '  happier  still  at  night,  when  I  return  to 
find  a  heart  —  " 

"  Altogether  indecorous,  my  dear  Paul.  You  are 
not  yet  moral  enough  to  marry." 

"  —  a  heart  in  which  to  confide  my  interests  and 
my  secrets.  I  wish  to  live  in  such  close  union  with 
a  woman  that  our  affection  shall  not  depend  upon  a 
yes  or  a  no,  or  be  open  to  the  disillusions  of  love. 
In  short,  I  have  the  necessary  courage  to  become,  as 
you  say,  a  worthy  husband  and  father.  I  feel  myself 
fitted  for  family  joys  ;  I  wish  to  put  myself  under  the 
conditions  prescribed  by  society ;  I  desire  to  have  a 
wife  and  children." 

4 1  You  remind  me  of  a  hive  of  honey-bees !  But  go 
your  way,  you  '11  be  a  dupe  all  your  life.  Ha,  ha !  you 
wish  to  marry  to  have  a  wife !  In  other  words,  you 
wish  to  solve  satisfactorily  to  your  own  profit  the  most 
difficult  problem  presented  by  those  bourgeois  morals 
which  were  created  by  the  French  Revolution ;  and, 
what  is  more,  you  mean  to  begin  your  attempt  by  a 
life  of  retirement.  Do  you  think  your  wife  won't 
crave  the  life  you  say  you  despise?  Will  she  be  dis- 
gusted with  it,  as  you  are?  If  you  won't  accept  the 
noble  conjugality  just  formulated  for  your  benefit  by 
your  friend  de  Marsay,  listen,  at  any  rate,  to  his  final 
advice.  Remain  a  bachelor  for  the  next  thirteen  years ; 
amuse  yourself  like  a  lost  soul ;  then,  at  forty,  on 
your  first  attack  of  gout,  marry  a  widow  of  thirty-six. 


The  Marriage  Contract.  13 

Then  yon  may  possibly  be  happy.  If  you  now  take  a 
young  girl  to  wife,  you  '11  die  a  madman." 

"  Ah  ca  I  tell  me  why!"  cried  Paul,  somewhat 
piqued. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  replied  de  Marsay,  "Boileau's 
satire  against  women  is  a  tissue  of  poetical  common- 
places. Why  shouldn't  women  have  defects?  Why 
condemn  them  for  having  the  most  obvious  thing  in 
human  nature?  To  my  mind,  the  problem  of  marriage 
is  not  at  all  at  the  point  where  Boileau  puts  it.  Do 
you  suppose  that  marriage  is  the  same  thing  as  love, 
and  that  being  a  man  suffices  to  make  a  wife  love  you? 
Have  you  gathered  nothing  in  your  boudoir  experience 
but  pleasant  memories  ?  I  tell  you  that  everything  in 
our  bachelor  life  leads  to  fatal  errors  in  the  married 
man  unless  he  is  a  profound  observer  of  the  human 
heart.  In  the  happy  days  of  his  youth  a  man,  by  the 
caprice  of  our  customs,  is  always  lucky ;  he  triumphs 
over  women  who  are  all  ready  to  be  triumphed  over 
and  who  obey  their  own  desires.  One  thing  after 
another  —  the  obstacles  created  by  the  laws,  the  senti- 
ments and  natural  defences  of  women  —  all  engender 
a  mutuality  of  sensations  which  deceives  superficial 
persons  as  to  their  future  relations  in  marriage,  where 
obstacles  no  longer  exist,  where  the  wife  submits  to 
love  instead  of  permitting  it,  and  frequently  repulses 
pleasure  instead  of  desiring  it.  Then,  the  whole  as- 
pect of  a  man's  life  changes.  The  bachelor,  who  is 
free  and  without  a  care,  need  never  fear  repulsion ;  in 
marriage,  repulsion  is  almost  certain  and  irreparable. 
It  may  be  possible  for  a  lover  to  make  a  woman  reverse 
an  unfavorable  decision,  but  such  a  change,  my  dear 


14  The  Marriage   Contract. 

Paul,  is  the  Waterloo  of  husbands.  Like  Napoleon,  the 
husband  is  thenceforth  condemned  to  victories  which, 
in  spite  of  their  number,  do  not  prevent  the  first  defeat 
from  crushing  him.  The  woman,  so  flattered  by  the 
perseverance,  so  delighted  with  the  ardor  of  a  lover, 
calls  the  same  things  brutality  in  a  husband.  You, 
who  talk  of  marrying,  and  who  will  marry,  have  you 
ever  meditated  on  the  Civil  Code?  I  myself  have 
never  muddied  my  feet  in  that  hovel  of  commentators, 
that  garret  of  gossip,  called  the  Law-school.  I  have 
never  so  much  as  opened  the  Code ;  but  I  see  its  appli- 
cation on  the  vitals  of  society.  The  Code,  my  dear  Paul, 
makes  woman  a  ward  ;  it  considers  her  a  child,  a  minor. 
Now  how  must  we  govern  children?  By  fear.  In 
that  one  word,  Paul,  is  the  curb  of  the  beast.  Now, 
feekyour  own  pulse !  Have  you  the  strength  to  play 
the  tyrant,  — you,  so  gentle,  so  kind  a  friend,  so  confid- 
ing ;  you,  at  whom  I  have  laughed,  but  whom  I  love, 
and  love  enough  to  reveal  to  you  my  science  ?  For 
this  is  science.  Yes,  it  proceeds  from  a  science  which 
the  Germans  are  already  calling  Anthropology.  Ah ! 
if  I  had  not  already  solved  the  mystery  of  life  by 
pleasure,  if  I  had  not  a  profound  antipathy  for  those 
who  think  instead  of  act,  if  I  did  not  despise  the  nin- 
nies who  are  silly  enough  to  believe  in  the  truth  of  a 
book,  when  the  sands  of  the  African  deserts  are  made 
of  the  ashes  of  I  know  not  how  many  unknown  and 
pulverized  Londons,  Romes,  Venices,  and  Parises,  I 
would  write  a  book  on  modern  marriages  made  under 
the  influence  of  the  Christian  system,  and  I'd  stick  a 
lantern  on  that  heap  of  sharp  stones  among  which  lie 
the    votaries  of  the  social   7nultiplicamini.     But   the 


The  Marriage   Contract.  15 

question  is,  Does  humanity  require  even  an  hour  of  my 
time?  And  besides,  is  n't  the  more  reasonable  use  of 
ink  that  of  snaring  hearts  by  writing  love-letters?  — 
Well,  shall  you  bring  the  Comtesse  de  Manerville  here, 
and  let  us  see  her  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Paul. 

41  We  shall  still  be  friends,"  said  de  Marsay. 

44  If  —  "  replied  Paul. 

4 *  Don't  be  uneasy;  we  will  treat  you  politely,  as 
Maison-Rouge  treated  the  English  at  Fontenoy." 


16  The  Marriage   Contract. 


II. 

TIIE    PINK    OP    FASHION. 

Though  the  foregoing  conversation  affected  the 
Comte  de  Manerville  somewhat,  he  made  it  a  point  of 
duty  to  carry  out  his  intentions,  and  he  returned  to 
Bordeaux  during  the  winter  of  the  year  1821. 

The  expenses  he  incurred  in  restoring  and  furnishing 
his  family  mansion  sustained  the  reputation  for  ele- 
gance which  had  preceded  him.  Introduced  through 
his  former  connections  to  the  royalist  society  of  Bor- 
deaux, to  which  he  belonged  as  much  by  his  personal 
opinions  as  by  his  name  and  fortune,  he  soon  obtained 
a  fashionable  pre-eminence.  His  knowledge  of  life,  his 
manners,  his  Parisian  acquirements  enchanted  the  fau- 
bourg Saint-Germain  of  Bordeaux.  An  old  marquise 
made  use  of  a  term  formerly  in  vogue  at  court  to  ex- 
press the  flowery  beauty  of  the  fops  and  beaux  of  the 
olden  time,  whose  language  and  demeanor  were  social 
laws:  she  called  him  "the  pink  of  fashion."  The 
liberal  clique  caught  up  the  word  and  used  it  satirically 
as  a  nickname,  while  the  royalist  party  continued  to 
employ  it  in  good  faith. 

Paul  de  Manerville  acquitted  himself  gloriously  of 
the  obligations  imposed  by  his  flowery  title.  It  hap- 
pened to  him,  as  to  many  a  mediocre  actor,  that  the 
day  when  the  public  granted  him  their  full  attention 


The  Marriage   Contract.  17 

he  became,  one  may  almost  say,  superior.  Feeling  at 
his  ease,  he  displayed  the  fine  qualities  which  accom- 
panied his  defects.  His  wit  had  nothing  sharp  or  bit- 
ter in  it ;  his  manners  were  not  supercilious  ;  his  inter- 
course with  women  expressed  the  respect  they  like,  —  it 
was  neither  too  deferential,  nor  too  familiar ;  his  fop- 
pery went  no  farther  than  a  care  for  his  personal 
appearance  which  made  him  agreeable ;  he  showed 
consideration  for  rank  ;  he  allowed  young  men  a  cer- 
tain freedom,  to  which  his  Parisian  experience  assigned 
due  limits ;  though  skilful  with  sword  and  pistol,  he 
was  noted  for  a  feminine  gentleness  for  which  others 
were  grateful.  His  medium  height  and  plumpness 
(which  had  not  yet  increased  into  obesity,  an  obstacle 
to  personal  elegance)  did  not  prevent  his  outer  man 
from  playing  the  part  of  a  Bordelais  Brummell.  A 
white  skin  tinged  with  the  hues  of  health,  handsome 
hands  and  feet,  blue  eyes  with  long  lashes,  black  hair, 
graceful  motions,  a  chest  voice  which  kept  to  its  mid- 
dle tones  and  vibrated  in  the  listener's  heart,  harmon- 
ized well  with  his  sobriquet.  Paul  was  indeed  that 
delicate  flower  which  needs  such  careful  culture,  the 
qualities  of  which  display  themselves  only  in  a  moist 
and  suitable  soil,  —  a  flower  which  rough  treatment 
dwarfs,  which  the  hot  sun  burns,  and  a  frost  lays  low. 
He  was  one  of  those  men  made  to  receive  happiness, 
rather  than  to  give  it ;  who  have  something  of  the 
woman  in  their  nature,  wishing  to  be  divined,  under- 
stood, encouraged ;  in  short,  a  man  to  whom  conjugal 
love  ought  to  come  as  a  providence. 

If  such  a  character  creates  difficulties  in  private  life, 
it   is   gracious    and   full  of  attraction  for  the    world. 


18  The  Marriage   Contract. 

Consequently,  Paul  had  great  success  in  the  narrow 
social  circle  of  the  provinces,  where  his  mind,  always, 
so  to  speak,  in  half -tints,  was  better  appreciated  than 
in  Paris. 

The  arrangement  of  his  house  and  the  restoration 
of  the  chateau  de  Lanstrac,  where  he  introduced  the 
comfort  and  luxury  of  an  English  country-house,  ab- 
sorbed the  capital  saved  by  his  notary  during  the  pre- 
ceding six  years.  Reduced  now  to  his  strict  income 
of  forty-odd  thousand  a  year,  he  thought  himself  wise 
and  prudent  in  so  regulating  his  household  as  not  to 
exceed  it. 

After  publicly  exhibiting  his  equipages,  entertaining 
the  most  distinguished  young  men  of  the  place,  and 
giving  various  hunting  parties  on  the  estate  at  Lan- 
strac, Paul  saw  very  plainly  that  provincial  life  would 
never  do  without  marriage.  Too  young  to  employ  his 
time  in  miserly  occupations,  or  in  trying  to  interest 
himself  in  the  speculative  improvements  in  which  pro- 
vincials sooner  or  later  engage  (compelled  thereto  by 
the  necessity  of  establishing  their  children),  he  soon 
felt  the  need  of  that  variety  of  distractions  a  habit  of 
which  becomes  at  last  the  very  life  of  a  Parisian.  A 
name  to  preserve,  property  to  transmit  to  heirs,  social 
relations  to  be  created  by  a  household  where  the  prin- 
cipal families  of  the  neighborhood  could  assemble, 
and  a  weariness  of  all  irregular  connections,  were  not, 
however,  the  determining  reasons  of  his  matrimonial 
desires.  From  the  time  he  first  returned  to  the  prov- 
inces he  had  been  secretly  in  love  with  the  queen  of 
Bordeaux,  the  great  beauty,  Mademoiselle  Evangelista. 

About  the  beginning  of  the  century,  a  rich  Spaniard, 


The  Marriage   Contract.  19 

named  Evangelista,  established  himself  in  Bordeaux, 
where  his  letters  of  recommendation,  as  well  as  his 
large  fortune,  gave  him  an  entrance  to  the  salons  of 
the  nobility.  His  wife  contributed  greatly  to  maintain 
him  in  the  good  graces  of  an  aristocracy  which  may 
perhaps  have  adopted  him  in  the  first  instance  merely 
to  pique  the  society  of  the  class  below  them.  Ma- 
dame Evangelista,  who  belonged  to  the  Casa-Reale,  an 
illustrious  family  of  Spain,  was  a  Creole,  and,  like  all 
women  served  by  slaves,  she  lived  as  a  great  lady, 
knew  nothing  of  the  value  of  money,  repressed  no 
whims,  even  the  most  expensive,  finding  them  ever 
satisfied  by  an  adoring  husband  who  generously  con- 
cealed from  her  knowledge  the  running-gear  of  the 
financial  machine.  Happy  in  finding  her  pleased  with 
Bordeaux,  where  his  interests  obliged  him  to  live, 
the  Spaniard  bought  a  house,  set  up  a  household,  re- 
ceived in  much  style,  and  gave  many  proofs  of  pos- 
sessing a  fine  taste  in  all  things.  Thus,  from  1800  to 
1812,  Monsieur  and  Madame  Evangelista  were  objects 
of  great  interest  to  the  community  of  Bordeaux. 

The  Spaniard  died  in  1813,  leaving  his  wife  a  widow 
at  thirty-two  years  of  age,  with  an  immense  fortune 
and  the  prettiest  little  girl  in  the  world,  a  child  of 
eleven,  who  promised  to  be,  and  did  actually  become, 
a  most  accomplished  young  woman.  Clever  as  Ma- 
dame Evangelista  was,  the  Restoration  altered  her 
position ;  the  royalist  party  cleared  its  ranks  and  sev- 
eral of  the  old  families  left  Bordeaux.  Though  the 
head  and  hand  of  her  husband  were  lacking  in  the 
direction  of  her  affairs,  for  which  she  had  hitherto 
shown  the  indifference  of  a  Creole  and  the  inaptitude  of 


20  The  Marriage   Contract. 

a  lackadaisical  woman,  she  was  determined  to  make  no 
change  in  her  manner  of  living.  At  the  period  when 
Paul  resolved  to  return  to  his  native  town,  Mademoi- 
selle Natalie  Evangelista  was  a  remarkably  beautiful 
young  girl,  and,  apparently,  the  richest  match  in  Bor 
deaux,  where  the  steady  diminution  of  her  mother's 
capital  was  unknown.  In  order  to  prolong  her  reign, 
Madame  Evangelista  had  squandered  enormous  sums. 
Brilliant  fetes  and  the  continuation  of  an  almost  regal 
style  of  living  kept  the  public  in  its  past  belief  as  to 
the  wealth  of  the  Spanish  family. 

Natalie  was  now  in  her  nineteenth  year,  but  no  pro- 
posal of  marriage  had  as  yet  reached  her  mother's  ear. 
Accustomed  to  gratify  her  fancies,  Mademoiselle  Evan- 
gelista wore  cashmeres  and  jewels,  and  lived  in  a 
style  of  luxury  which  alarmed  all  speculative  suitors 
in  a  region  and  at  a  period  when  sons  were  as  calculat- 
ing as  their  parents.  The  fatal  remark,  "  None  but 
a  prince  can  afford  to  marry  Mademoiselle  Evange- 
lista," circulated  among  the  salons  and  the  cliques. 
Mothers  of  families,  dowagers  who  had  granddaugh- 
ters to  establish,  young  girls  jealous  of  Natalie,  whose 
elegance  and  tyrannical  beauty  annoyed  them,  took 
pains  to  envenom  this  opinion  with  treacherous  re- 
marks. When  they  heard  a  possible  suitor  say  with 
ecstatic  admiration,  as  Natalie  entered  a  ball-room, 
41  Heavens,  how  beautiful  she  is  ! "  "Yes,"  the  mammas 
would  answer,  "but  expensive."  If  some  new-comer 
thought  Mademoiselle  Evangelista  bewitching  and  said 
to  a  marriageable  man  that  he  could  n't  do  better, 
"Who  would  be  bold  enough,"  some  woman  would 
reply,  ' '  to  marry  a  girl  whose  mother  gives  her  a  thou- 


The  Marriage   Contract.  21 

sand  francs  a  month  for  her  toilet,  —  a  girl  who  has 
horses  and  a  maid  of  her  own,  and  wears  laces  ?  Yes, 
her  peignoirs  are  trimmed  with  mechlin.  The  price  of 
her  washing  would  support  the  household  of  a  clerk. 
She  wears  pelerines  in  the  morning  which  actually  cost 
six  francs  to  get  up." 

These,  and  other  speeches  said  occasionally  in  the  form 
of  praise  extinguished  the  desires  that  some  men  might 
have  had  to  marry  the  beautiful  Spanish  girl.  Queen 
of  every  ball,  accustomed  to  flattery,  blasee  with  the 
smiles  and  the  admiration  which  followed  her  every  step, 
Natalie,  nevertheless,  knew  nothing  of  life.  She  lived 
as  the  bird  which  flies,  as  the  flower  that  blooms,  find- 
ing every  one  about  her  eager  to  do  her  will.  She  was 
ignorant  of  the  price  of  things ;  she  knew  neither  the 
value  of  money,  nor  whence  it  came,  how  it  should  be 
managed,  and  how  spent.  Possibly  she  thought  that 
every  household  had  cooks  and  coachmen,  lady's- 
maids  and  footmen,  as  the  fields  have  hay  a,nd  the 
trees  their  fruits.  To  her,  beggars  and  paupers,  fallen 
trees  and  waste  lands  seemed  in  the  same  category. 
Pampered  and  petted  as  her  mother's  hope,  no  fatigue 
was  allowed  to  spoil  her  pleasure.  Thus  she  bounded 
through  life  as  a  courser  on  his  steppe,  unbridled  aud 
unshod. 

Six  months  after  Paul's  arrival  the  Pink  of  Fashion 
and  the  Queen  of  Balls  met  in  presence  of  the  highest 
society  of  the  town  of  Bordeaux.  The  two  flowers 
looked  at  each  other  with  apparent  coldness,  and  mutu- 
ally thought  eacli  other  charming.  Interested  in 
watching  the  effects  of  the  meeting,  Madame  Evan- 
gelista  divined  in  the  expression  of  Paul's  eyes  the 


22  The  Marriage   Contract, 

feelings  within  him,  and  she  muttered  to  herself,  "  He 
will  be  my  son-in-law."  Paul,  on  the  other  hand,  said 
to  himself,  as  he  looked  at  Natalie,  "  She  will  be  my 
wife." 

The  wealth  of  the  ^vangelistas,  proverbial  in 
Bordeaux,  had  remained  in  Paul's  mind  as  a  memory  of 
his  childhood.  Thus  the  pecuniary  conditions  were 
known  to  him  from  the  start,  without  necessitating 
those  discussions  and  inquiries  which  are  as  repugnant 
to  a  timid  mind  as  to  a  proud  one.  When  some  per- 
sons attempted  to  say  to  Paul  a  few  nattering  phrases 
as  to  Natalie's  manner,  language,  and  beauty,  ending 
by  remarks,  cruelly  calculated  to  deter  him,  on  the 
lavish  extravagance  of  the  Evangelistas,  the  Pink 
of  Fashion  replied  with  a  disdain  that  was  well- 
deserved  by  such  provincial  pettiness.  This  method  of 
receiving  such  speeches  soon  silenced  them ;  for  he  now 
set  the  tone  to  the  ideas  and  language  as  well  as  to  the 
manners  of  those  about  him.  He  had  imported  from 
his  travels  a  certain  development  of  the  Britannic  per- 
sonality with  its  icy  barriers,  also  a  tone  of  Byronian 
pessimism  as  to  life,  together  with  English  plate, 
boot-polish,  ponies,  yellow  gloves,  cigars,  and  the  habit 
of  galloping. 

It  thus  happened  that  Paul  escaped  the  discourage- 
ments hitherto  presented  to  marriageable  men  by 
dowagers  and  young  girls.  Madame  Evangelista  be- 
gan by  asking  him  to  formal  dinners  on  various  occa- 
sions. The  Pink  of  Fashion  would  not,  of  course,  miss 
festivities  to  which  none  but  the  most  distinguished 
young  men  of  the  town  were  bidden.  In  spite  of  the 
coldness  that  Paul  assumed,   which  deceived   neither 


The  Marriage   Contract.  23 

mother  nor  daughter,  he  was  drawn,  step  by  step,  into 
the  path  of  marriage.  Sometimes  as  he  passed  in  his 
tilbury,  or  rode  by  on  his  fine  English  horse,  he  heard 
the  young  men  of  his  acquaintance  say  to  one 
another :  — 

"  There  's  a  lucky  man.  He  is  rich  and  handsome, 
and  is  to  marry,  so  they  say,  Mademoiselle  Evangelista. 
There  are  some  men  for  whom  the  world  seems  made." 

When  he  met  the  Evang61istas  he  felt  proud  of  the 
particular  distinction  which  mother  and  daughter  im- 
parted to  their  bows.  If  Paul  had  not  secretly,  within 
his  heart,  fallen  in  love  with  Mademoiselle  Natalie, 
society  would  certainly  have  married  him  to  her  in  spite 
of  himself.  Society,  which  never  causes  good,  is  the 
accomplice  of  much  evil ;  then  when  it  beholds  the  evil 
it  has  hatched  maternally,  it  rejects  and  revenges  it. 
Society  in  Bordeaux,  attributing  a  dot  of  a  million  to 
Mademoiselle  Evangelista,  bestowed  it  upon  Paul  with- 
out awaiting  the  consent  of  either  party.  Their  for- 
tunes, so  it  was  said,  agreed  as  well  as  their  persons. 
Paul  had  the  same  habits  of  luxury  and  elegance  in  the 
midst  of  which  Natalie  had  been  brought  up.  He  had 
just  arranged  for  himself  a  house  such  as  no  other  man 
in  Bordeaux  could  have  offered  her.  Accustomed  to 
Parisian  expenses  and  the  caprices  of  Parisian  women, 
he  alone  was  fitted  to  meet  the  pecuniary  difficulties 
which  were  likely  to  follow  this  marriage  with  a  girl 
who  was  as  much  of  a  Creole  and  a  great  lady  as  her 
mother.  Where  they  themselves,  remarked  the  mar- 
riageable men,  would  have  been  ruined,  the  Comte  de 
Manerville,  rich  as  he  was,  could  evade  disaster.  In 
short,  the  marriage  was  made.     Persons  in  the  highest 


24  The  Marriage   Contract. 

royalist  circles  said  a  few   engaging   words  to   Paul 
which  nattered  his  vanity  :  — 

"  Every  one  gives  you  Mademoiselle  Evangelista. 
If  you  marry  her  you  will  do  well.  You  could  not  find, 
even  in  Paris,  a  more  delightful  girl.  She  is  beautiful, 
graceful,  elegant,  and  takes  after  the  Casa-Reales 
through  her  mother.  You  will  make  a  charming 
couple ;  you  have  the  same  tastes,  the  same  desires  in 
life,  and  you  will  certainly  have  the  most  agreeable 
house  in  Bordeaux.  Your  wife  need  only  bring  her 
night-cap;  all  is  ready  for  her.  You  are  fortunate 
indeed  in  such  a  mother-in-law.  A  woman  of  intelli- 
gence, and  very  adroit,  she  will  be  a  great  help  to  you 
in  public  life,  to  which  you  ought  to  aspire.  Besides, 
she  has  sacrificed  everything  to  her  daughter,  whom  she 
adores,  and  Natalie  will,  no  doubt,  prove  a  good  wife, 
for  she  loves  her  mother.  You  must  soon  bring  the 
matter  to  a  conclusion." 

"  That  is  all  very  well,"  replied  Paul,  who,  in  spite 
of  his  love,  was  desirous  of  keeping  his  freedom  of 
action,  "but  I  must  be  sure  that  the  conclusion  shall 
be  a  happy  one." 

He  now  went  frequently  to  Madame  £vangelista's, 
partly  to  occupy  his  vacant  hours,  which  were  harder 
for  him  to  employ  than  for  most  men.  There  alone  he 
breathed  the  atmosphere  of  grandeur  and  luxury  to 
which  he  was  accustomed. 

At  forty  years  of  age,  Madame  Evangelista  was 
beautiful,  with  the  beauty  of  those  glorious  summer 
sunsets  which  crown  a  cloudless  day,  Her  spotless 
reputation  had  given  an  endless  topic  of  conversation 
to  the  Bordeaux  cliques ;  the  curiosity  of  the  women 


The  Marriage   Contract.  25 

was  all  the  more  lively  because  the  widow  gave  signs 
of  the  temperameat  which  makes  a  Spanish  woman  and 
a  Creole  particularly  noted.  She  had  black  eyes  and 
hair,  the  feet  and  form  of  a  Spanish  woman,  —  that 
swaying  form  the  movements  of  which  have  a  name  in 
Spain.  Her  face,  still  beautiful,  was  particularly  se- 
ductive for  its  Creole  complexion,  the  vividness  of 
which  can  be  described  only  by  comparing  it  to  muslin 
overlying  crimson,  so  equally  is  the  whiteness  suffused 
with  color.  Her  figure,  which  was  full  and  rounded, 
attracted  the  eye  by  a  grace  which  united  nonchalance 
with  vivacity,  strength  with  ease.  She  attracted  and 
she  imposed,  she  seduced,  but  promised  nothing.  She 
was  tall,  which  gave  her  at  times  the  air  and  carriage 
of  a  queen.  Men  were  taken  by  her  conversation  like 
birds  in  a  snare ;  for  she  had  by  nature  that  genius 
which  necessity  bestows  on  schemers ;  she  advanced 
from  concession  to  concession,  strengthening  herself 
with  what  she  gained  to  ask  for  more,  knowing  well 
how  to  retreat  with  rapid  steps  when  concessions  were 
demanded  in  return.  Though  ignorant  of  facts,  she 
had  known  the  courts  of  Spain  and  Naples,  the  cele- 
brated men  of  the  two  Americas,  many  illustrious 
families  of  England  and  the  continent,  all  of  which 
gave  her  so  extensive  an  education  superficially  that  it 
seemed  immense.  She  received  her  society  with  the 
grace  and  dignity  which  are  never  learned,  but  which 
come  to  certain  naturally  fine  spirits  like  a  second 
nature ;  assimilating  choice  things  wherever  they  are 
met.  If  her  reputation  for  virtue  was  unexplained, 
it  gave  at  any  rate  much  authority  to  her  actions,  her 
conversation,  and  her  character. 


26  The  Marriage   Contract. 

Mother  and  daughter  had  a  true  friendship  for  each 
other,  beyond  the  filial  and  maternal  sentiment.  They 
suited  one  another,  and  their  perpetual  contact  had 
never  produced  the  slightest  jar.  Consequently  many 
persons  explained  Madame  Evangelista's  actions  by 
maternal  love.  But  although  Natalie  consoled  her 
mother's  persistent  widowhood,  she  may  not  have 
been  the  only  motive  for  it.  Madame  Evangelista  had 
been,  it  was  said,  in  love  with  a  man  who  recovered  his 
titles  and  property  under  the  Restoration.  This  man, 
desirous  of  marrying  her  in  1814  had  discreetly  sev- 
ered the  connection  in  1816.  Madame  Evangelista,  to 
all  appearance  the  best-hearted  woman  in  the  world, 
had,  in  the  depths  of  her  nature,  a  fearful  quality,  ex- 
plainable only  by  Catherine  de  Medici's  device  :  Odiate 
e  aspettate  —  "  Hate  and  wait."  Accustomed  to  rule, 
having  always  been  obeyed,  she  was  like  other  royalties, 
amiable,  gentle,  easy  and  pleasant  in  ordinary  life, 
but  terrible,  implacable,  if  the  pride  of  the  woman,  the 
Spaniard,  and  the  Casa-Reale  was  touched.  She  never 
forgave.  This  woman  believed  in  the  power  of  her 
hatred ;  she  made  an  evil  fate  of  it  and  bade  it  hover 
above  her  enemy.  This  fatal  power  she  employed 
against  the  man  who  had  jilted  her.  Event3  which 
seemed  to  prove  the  influence  of  her  jettatura  —  the 
casting  of  an  evil  eye  —  confirmed  her  superstitious 
faith  in  herself.  Though  a  minister  and  peer  of 
France,  this  man  began  to  ruin  himself,  and  soon  came 
to  total  ruin.  His  property,  his  personal  and  public 
honor  were  doomed  to  perish.  At  this  crisis  Madame 
Evangelista  in  her  brilliant  equipage  passed  her  faith- 
less lover  walking  on  foot  in  the  Champs  Ely  sees,  and 


Tht  M  --.    C    -    :  -.  .7 

crushed  hi:  a  look  which  flamed  with  triumph. 

TL:     mis         ntnre,  which  her  mind  for  two 

rs,  was  the  original  cause  of  her   not  remarrvii:_ 

:er.  her  pride  had  drawn  compa:  is     a  the 

-    ~ho  p:  3  and   .he  hasband  who 

let  so  si] 

She  had  1     -  _         -     :  :ulati    is 

1   disappoii  topes,   that    period    of    life    when 

women  have  no  oth  than  that  of 

m<  Ives   the  s  :n- 

9el     s  to  their  etui  _r  of  the: 

on-  :    self   upon    another   he  isehokl, — the   las! 

:  human 

Madame   Z       _   lis       divined  Pawl  :ui- 

tSvely,   and   hid  her  own  from   his   p-  ion.     Paul 

was  the  mail  she  desire     for  a  son-in-law.  for  the 

responsible  editor  of  her  future  power.     He  belo:  _      . 
through  his  mother,  to  the  family  of  Maulincour.  and 
the    old   Baronne   de    Maulmcoor,    I :..■:' 
Vidame  de  Pamiers.  was  then  livi:  _  of  the 

fanboorg  Saint-Germain.     The  _  :"  the  1 

ess.  Aug   si  Manli  .eld  a  -       n  in  the 

iiv.     Paul  woold  at  introducer 

for  the  Ev:    _      -     -  into  Parisian  society.     T. 
wn  -  g  of  the  Paris  of  1       E 

s     :e  in  the  I       -    >f  the  Rest 
There  b  Of  political  fortune,  the 

onlv       -      ss  hi  rid  could  de- 

atly  eo-c  .     Madame  Ev     _  mpeli 

her  hnshau  fairs  1         - 

the         v.     vhe  des                               as  gamblers  i    sh 
to  higher  si  .  s 9,  ....  refoi 


28  The  Marriage   Contract. 

she  looked  to  Paul  as  a  means  of  destiny,  she  proposed 
to  employ  the  resources  of  her  own  talent  and  knowl- 
edge of  life  to  advance  her  son-in-law,  in  order  to  en- 
joy through  him  the  delights  of  power.  Many  men  are 
thus  made  the  screens  of  secret  feminine  ambitions.  Ma- 
dame  Evangelista  had,  however,  more  than  one  interest, 
as  we  shall  see,  in  laying  hold  of  her  daughter's  husband. 

Paul  was  naturally  captivated  by  this  woman,  who 
charmed  him  all  the  more  because  she  seemed  to  seek 
no  influence  over  him.  In  reality  she  was  using  her  as- 
cendency to  magnify  herself,  her  daughter,  and  all  her 
surroundings  in  his  eyes,  for  the  purpose  of  ruling  from 
the  start  the  man  in  whom  she  saw  a  means  of  gratifying 
her  social  longings.  Paul,  on  the  other  hand,  began  to 
value  himself  more  highly  when  he  felt  himself  appre- 
ciated by  the  mother  and  daughter.  He  thought  him- 
self much  cleverer  than  he  really  was  when  he  found 
his  reflections  and  sayings  accepted  and  understood 
by  Mademoiselle  Natalie  —  who  raised  her  head  and 
smiled  in  response  to  them  —  and  by  the  mother,  whose 
flattery  seemed  always  involuntary.  The  two  women 
were  so  kind  and  friendly  to  him,  he  was  so  sure  of 
pleasing  them,  they  ruled  him  so  delightfully  by  hold- 
ing the  thread  of  his  self-love,  that  he  soon  passed  all 
his  time  at  the  hotel  Evangelista. 

A  year  after  his  return  to  Bordeaux,  Comte  Paul, 
without  having  declared  himself,  was  so  attentive  to 
Natalie  that  the  world  considered  him  as  courting  her. 
Neither  mother  nor  daughter  appeared  to  be  thinking 
of  marriage.  Mademoiselle  Evangelista  preserved 
towards  Paul  the  reserve  of  a  great  lady  who  can 
make  herself  charming  and  converse  agreeably  without 


The  Marriage   Contract.  29 

permitting  a  single  step  into  intimacy.  This  reserve, 
so  little  customary  among  provincials,  pleased  Paul 
immensely.  Timid  men  are  shy ;  sudden  proposals 
alarm  them.  They  retreat  from  happiness  when  it 
comes  with  a  rush,  and  accept  misfortune  if  it  pre- 
sents itself  mildly  with  gentle  shadows.  Paul  there- 
fore committed  himself  in  his  own  mind  all  the  more 
because  he  saw  no  effort  on  Madame  Evangelista's 
part  to  bind  him.  She  fairly  seduced  him  one  evening 
by  remarking  that  to  superior  women  as  well  as  men 
there  came  a  period  of  life  when  ambition  superseded 
all  the  earlier  emotions  of  life. 

"  That  woman  is  fitted,''  thought  Paul,  as  he  left  her, 
6 'to  advance  me  in  diplomacy  before  I  am  even  made 
a  deputy." 

If,  in  all  the  circumstances  of  life  a  man  does  not 
turn  over  and  over  both  things  and  ideas  in  order  to 
examine  them  thoroughly  under  their  different  aspects 
before  taking  action,  that  man  is  weak  and  incomplete 
and  in  danger  of  fatal  failure.  At  this  moment  Paul 
was  an  optimist ;  he  saw  everything  to  advantage,  and 
did  not  tell  himself  that  an  ambitious  mother-in-law 
might  prove  a  tyrant.  So,  every  evening  as  he  left  the 
house,  he  fancied  himself  a  married  man,  allured  his 
mind  with  its  own  thought,  and  slipped  on  the  slippers 
of  wedlock  cheerfully.  In  the  first  place,  he  had  en- 
joyed his  freedom  too  long  to  regret  the  loss  of  it ;  he 
was  tired  of  a  bachelor's  life,  which  offered  him  nothing 
new ;  he  now  saw  only  its  annoyances ;  whereas  if  he 
thought  at  times  of  the  difficulties  of  marriage,  its 
pleasures,  in  which  lay  novelty,  came  far  more  promi- 
nently before  his  mind. 


30  The  Marriage  Contract. 

"  Marriage,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  is  disagreeable 
for  people  without  means,  but  half  its  troubles  disap- 
pear before  wealth." 

Every  day  some  favorable  consideration  swelled 
the  advantages  which  he  now  saw  in  this  particular 
alliance. 

' '  No  matter  to  what  position  I  attain,  Natalie  will 
always  be  on  the  level  of  her  part,"  thought  he,  "  and 
that  is  no  small  merit  in  a  woman.  How  many  of  the 
Empire  men  I  've  seen  who  suffered  horribly  through 
their  wives  !  It  is  a  great  condition  of  happiness  not 
to  feel  one's  pride  or  one's  vanity  wounded  by  the  com- 
panion we  have  chosen.  A  man  can  never  be  really 
unhappy  with  a  well-bred  wife ;  she  will  never  make 
him  ridiculous ;  such  a  woman  is  certain  to  be  useful 
to  him.  Natalie  will  receive  in  her  own  house 
admirably." 

So  thinking,  he  taxed  his  memory  as  to  the  most 
distinguished  women  of  the  faubourg  Saint-Germain, 
in  order  to  convince  himself  that  Natalie  could,  if  not 
eclipse  them,  at  any  rate  stand  among  them  on  a  foot- 
ing of  perfect  equality.  All  comparisons  were  to  her 
advantage,  for  they  rested  on  his  own  imagination, 
which  followed  his  desires.  Paris  would  have  shown 
him  daily  other  natures,  young  girls  of  other  styles  of 
beauty  aud  charm,  and  the  multiplicity  of  impressions 
would  have  balanced  his  mind ;  whereas  in  Bordeaux 
Natalie  had  no  rivals,  she  was  the  solitary  flower ; 
moreover,  she  appeared  to  him  at  a  moment  when 
Paul  was  under  the  tyranny  of  an  idea  to  which  most 
men  succumb  at  his  age. 

Thus  these  reasons  of  propinquity,  joined  to  reasons 


The  Marriage   Contract.  81 

/ 

of  self-love  and  a  real  passion  which  had  no  means  of 
satisfaction  except  by  marriage,  led  Paul  on  to  an 
irrational  love,  which  he  had,  however,  the  good  sense 
to  keep  to  himself.  He  even  endeavored  to  study 
Mademoiselle  Evangelista  as  a  man  should  who  de- 
sires not  to  compromise  his  future  life ;  for  the  words 
of  his  friend  de  Marsay  did  sometimes  rumble  in  his 
ears  like  a  warning.  But,  in  the  first  place,  persons 
accustomed  to  luxury  have  a  certain  indifference  to  it 
which  misleads  them.  They  despise  it,  they  use  it ;  it  is 
an  instrument,  and  not  the  object  of  their  existence. 
Paul  never  imagined,  as  he  observed  the  habits  of  life 
of  the  two  ladies,  that  they  covered  a  gulf  of  ruin. 
Then,  though  there  may  exist  some  general  rules  to 
soften  the  asperities  of  marriage,  there  are  none  by 
which  they  can  be  accurately  foreseen  and  evaded. 
When  trouble  arises  between  two  persons  who  have 
undertaken  to  render  life  agreeable  and  easy  to  each 
other,  it  comes  from  the  contact  of  continual  intimacy, 
which,  of  course,  does  not  exist  between  young  people 
before  they  marry,  and  will  never  exist  so  long  as  our 
present  social  laws  and  customs  prevail  in  France.  All 
is  more  or  less  deception  between  the  two  young  per- 
sons about  to  take  each  other  for  life,  —  an  innocent 
and  involuntary  deception,  it  is  true.  Each  endeavors 
to  appear  in  a  favorable  light ;  both  take  a  tone  and 
attitude  conveying  a  more  favorable  idea  of  their 
nature  than  they  are  able  to  maintain  in  after  years. 
Real  life,  like  the  weather,  is  made  up  of  gray  and 
cloudy  days  alternating  with  those  when  the  sun  shines 
and  the  fields  are  gay.  Young  people,  however,  ex- 
hibit fine  weather  and  no  clouds.     Later  they  attribute 


32  The  Marriage,   Contract. 

to  marriage  the  evils  inherent  in  life  itself ;  for  there  is 
in  man  a  disposition  to  lay  the  blame  of  his  own  misery 
on  the  persons  and  things  that  surround  him. 

To  discover  in  the  demeanor,  or  the  countenance, 
or  the  words,  or  the  gestures  of  Mademoiselle  Evange- 
lista  any  indication  that  revealed  the  imperfections  of 
her  character,  Paul  must  have  possessed  not  only  the 
knowledge  of  Lavater  and  Gall,  but  also  a  science  in 
which  there  exists  no  formula  of  doctrine,  —  the  indi- 
vidual and  personal  science  of  an  observer,  which,  for 
its  perfection,  requires  an  almost  universal  knowledge. 
Natalie's  face,  like  that  of  most  }Toung  girls,  was  im- 
penetrable. The  deep,  serene  peace  given  by  sculptors 
to  the  virgin  faces  of  Justice  and  Innocence,  divinities 
aloof  from  all  earthly  agitations,  is  the  greatest  charm 
of  a  young  girl,  the  sign  of  her  purity.  Nothing,  as 
yet,  has  stirred  her ;  no  shattered  passion,  no  hope 
betrayed  has  clouded  the  placid  expression  of  that 
pure  face.  Is  that  expression  assumed?  If  so,  there 
is  no  young  girl  behind  it. 

Natalie,  closely  held  to  the  heart  of  her  mother,  had 
received,  like  other  Spanish  women,  an  education  that 
was  solely  religious,  together  with  a  few  instructions 
from  her  mother  as  to  the  part  in  life  she  was  called 
upon  to  play.  Consequently,  the  calm,  untroubled  ex- 
pression of  her  face  was  natural.  And  yet  it  formed  a 
casing  in  which  the  woman  was  wrapped  as  the  moth 
in  its  cocoon.  Nevertheless,  any  man  clever  at  hand- 
ling the  scalpel  of  analysis  might  have  detected  in 
Natalie  certain  indications  of  the  difficulties  her  char- 
acter would  present  when  brought  into  contact  with 
conjugal  or  social  life.     Her  beauty,  which  was  really 


The  Marriage  Contract.  33 

marvellous,  came  from  extreme  regularity  of  feature 
harmonizing  with  the  proportions  of  the  head  and  the 
body.  This  species  of  perfection  augurs  ill  for  the 
mind  ;  and  there  are  few  exceptions  to  the  rule.  All 
superior  nature  is  found  to  have  certain  slight  imper- 
fections of  form  which  become  irresistible  attractions, 
luminous  points  from  which  shine  vivid  sentiments, 
and  on  which  the  eye  rests  gladly.  Perfect  harmony 
expresses  usuall}7  the  coldness  of  a  mixed  organization. 
Natalie's  waist  was  round,  — a  sign  of  strength,  but 
also  the  infallible  indication  of  a  will  which  becomes 
obstinacy  in  persons  whose  mind  is  neither  keen  nor 
broad.  Her  hands,  like  those  of  a  Greek  statue,  con- 
firmed the  predictions  of  face  and  figure  by  revealing 
an  inclination  for  illogical  domination,  of  willing  for 
will's  sake  only.  Her  eyebrows  met ,  —  a  sign,  accord- 
ing to  some  observers,  which  indicates  jealousy.  The 
jealousy  of  superior  minds  becomes  emulation  and 
leads  to  great  things ;  that  of  small  minds  turns  to 
hatred.  The  "  hate  and  wait"  of  her  mother  was  in 
her  nature,  without  disguise.  Her  eyes  were  black  ap- 
parently, though  really  brown  with  orange  streaks, 
contrasting  with  her  hair,  of  the  ruddy  tint  so  prized 
by  the  Romans,  called  auburn  in  England,  a  color 
which  often  appears  in  the  offspring  of  persons  of 
jet  black  hair,  like  that  of  Monsieur  and  Madame 
Evangelista.  The  whiteness  and  delicacy  of  Natalie's 
complexion  gave  to  the  contrast  of  color  in  her  eyes 
and  hair  an  inexpressible  charm ;  and  yet  it  was  a 
charm  that  was  purely  external ;  for  whenever  the 
lines  of  a  face  are  lacking  in  a  certain  soft  roundness, 
whatever  may  be  the  finish  and  grace  of  the  details,  the 

3 


34  The  Marriage   Contract. 

beauty  therein  expressed  is  not  of  the  soul.  These 
roses  of  deceptive  youth  will  drop  their  leaves,  and  you 
will  be  surprised  in  a  few  years  to  see  hardness  and 
dryness  where  you  once  admired  what  seemed  to  be 
the  beauty  of  noble  qualities. 

Though  the  outlines  of  Natalie's  face  had  something 
august  about  them,  her  chin  was  slightly  empate,  —  a 
painter's  expression  which  will  serve  to  show  the  exist- 
ence of  sentiments  the  violence  of  which  would  only 
become  manifest  in  after  life.  Her  mouth,  a  trifle 
drawn  in,  expressed  a  haughty  pride  in  keeping  with 
her  hand,  her  chin,  her  brows,  and  her  beautiful  figure. 
And  —  as  a  last  diagnostic  to  guide  the  judgment  of  a 
connoisseur — Natalie's  pure  voice,  a  most  seductive 
voice,  had  certain  metallic  tones.  Softly  as  that  brassy 
ring  was  managed,  and  in  spite  of  the  grace  with  which 
its  sounds  ran  through  the  compass  of  the  voice,  that 
organ  revealed  the  character  of  the  Duke  of  Alba,  from 
whom  the  Casa-Reales  were  collaterally  descended. 
These  indications  were  those  of  violent  passions  with- 
out tenderness,  sudden  devotions,  irreconcilable  dis- 
likes, a  mind  without  intelligence,  and  the  desire  to 
rule  natural  to  persons  who  feel  themselves  inferior 
to  their  pretensions. 

These  defects,  born  of  temperament  and  constitu- 
tion, were  buried  in  Natalie  like  ore  in  a  mine,  and 
would  only  appear  under  the  shocks  and  harsh  treat- 
ment to  which  all  characters  are  subjected  in  this 
world.  Meantime  the  grace  and  freshness  of  her 
youth,  the  distinction  of  her  manners,  her  sacred  igno- 
rance, and  the  sweetness  of  a  young  girl,  gave  a  deli- 
cate glamour  to  her  features  which  could  not  fail  to 


The  Marriage   Contract,  85 

mislead  an  unthinking  or  superficial  mind.  Her  mother 
had  early  taught  her  the  trick  of  agreeable  talk  which 
appears  to  imply  superiority,  replying  to  arguments  by 
clever  jests,  and  attracting  by  the  graceful  volubility 
beneath  which  a  woman  hides  the  subsoil  of  her  mind, 
as  Nature  disguises  her  barren  strata  beneath  a  wealth 
of  ephemeral  vegetation.  Natalie  had  the  charm  of 
children  who  have  never  known  what  it  is  to  suffer. 
She  charmed  by  her  frankness,  and  had  none  of  that 
solemn  air  which  mothers  impose  on  their  daughters  by 
laying  down  a  programme  of  behavior  and  language 
until  the  time  comes  when  they  marry  and  are  emanci- 
pated. She  was  gay  and  natural,  like  any  young  girl 
who  knows  nothing  of  marriage,  expects  only  pleasure 
from  it,  replies  to  all  objections  with  a  jest,  foresees 
no  troubles,  and  thinks  she  is  acquiring  the  right  to 
have  her  own  way. 

How  could  Paul,  who  loved  as  men  love  when  desire 
increases  love,  perceive  in  a  girl  of  this  nature  whose 
beauty  dazzled  him,  the  woman,  such  as  she  would 
probably  be  at  thirty,  when  observers  themselves  have 
been  misled  by  these  appearances?  Besides,  if  hap- 
piness might  prove  difficult  to  find  in  a  marriage  with 
such  a  girl,  it  was  not  impossible.  Through  these 
embryo  defects  shone  several  fine  qualities.  There  is 
no  good  quality  which,  if  properly  developed  by  the 
hand  of  an  able  master,  will  not  stifle  defects,  especially 
in  a  young  girl  who  loves  him.  But  to  render  ductile 
bo  intractable  a  woman,  the  iron  wrist,  about  which  de 
Marsay  had  preached  to  Paul,  was  needful.  The 
Parisian  dandy  was  right.  Fear,  inspired  by  love 
is   an  infallible  instrument  by  which  to  manage  the 


36  The  Marriage    Contract. 

.minds  of  women.     Whoso  loves,  fears ;  whoso  fears  is 
nearer  to  affection  than  to  hatred. 

Had  Paul  the  coolness,  firmness,  and  judgment  re- 
quired for  this  struggle,  which  an  able  husband  ought 
not  to  let  the  wife  suspect?  Did  Natalie  love  Paul? 
Like  most  young  girls,  Natalie  mistook  for  love  the 
first  emotions  of  instinct  and  the  pleasure  she  felt  in 
Paul's  external  appearance ;  but  she  knew  nothing  of 
the  things  of  marriage  nor  the  demands  of  a  home.  To 
her,  the  Comte  de  Manerville,  a  rising  diplomatist,  to 
whom  the  courts  of  Europe  were  known,  and  one  of  the 
most  elegant  young  men  in  Paris,  could  not  seem,  what 
perhaps  he  was,  an  ordinary  man,  without  moral  force, 
timid,  though  brave  in  some  ways,  energetic  perhaps 
in  adversity,  but  helpless  against  the  vexations  and 
annoyances  that  hinder  happiness.  Would  she,  in  after 
years,  have  sufficient  tact  and  insight  to  distinguish 
Paul's  noble  qualities  in  the  midst  of  his  minor  defects? 
Would  she  not  magnify  the  latter  and  forget  the  former, 
after  the  manner  of  young  wives  who  know  nothing  of 
life  ?  There  comes  a  time  when  wives  will  pardon  de- 
fects in  the  husband  who  spares  her  annoyances,  con- 
sidering annoyances  in  the  same  category  as  misfor- 
tunes. What  conciliating  power,  what  wise  experience 
would  uphold  and  enlighten  the  home  of  this  young 
pair?  Paul  and  his  wife  would  doubtless  think  they 
loved  when  they  had  really  not  advanced  beyond  the 
endearments  and  compliments  of  the  honeymoon. 
Would  Paul  in  that  early  period  yield  to  the  tyranny 
of  his  wife,  instead  of  establishing  his  empire?  Could 
Paul  say,  No?  All  was  peril  to  a  man  so  weak  where 
even  a  strong  man  ran  some  risks. 


The  Marriage   Contract  37 

The  subject  of  this  Study  is  not  the  transition  of  a 
bachelor  into  a  married  man,  —  a  picture  which,  if 
broadly  composed,  would  not  lack  the  attraction  which 
the  inner  struggles  of  our  nature  and  feelings  give  to 
the  commonest  situations  in  life.  The  events  and  the 
ideas  which  led  to  the  marriage  of  Paul  with  Natalie 
Evangelista  are  an  introduction  to  our  real  subject, 
which  is  to  sketch  the  great  comedy  that  precedes,  in 
France,  all  conjugal  pairing.  This  Scene,  until  now 
singularly  neglected  by  our  dramatic  authors  although 
it  offers  novel  resources  to  their  wit,  controlled  Paul's 
future  life  and  was  now  awaited  by  Madame  Evange- 
lista  with  feelings  of  terror.  AYe  mean  the  discussion 
which  takes  place  on  the  subject  of  the  marriage  con- 
tract in  all  families,  whether  noble  or  bourgeois,  for 
human  passions  are  as  keenly  excited  by  small  interests 
as  by  large  ones.  These  comedies,  played  before  a 
notary,  all  resemble,  more  or  less,  the  one  we  shall 
now  relate,  the  interest  of  which  will  be  far  less  in  the 
pages  of  this  book  than  in  the  memories  of  married 
persons. 


38  The  Marriage   Contract, 


III. 

THE    MARRIAGE    CONTRACT  —  FIRST   DAY. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  winter  of  1822,  Paul  de 
Manerville  made  a  formal  request,  through  his  great- 
aunt,  the  Baronne  de  Maulincour,  for  the  hand  of 
Mademoiselle  Natalie  Evangelista.  Though  the  baron- 
ess never  stayed  more  than  two  months  in  Medoc,  she 
remained  on  this  occasion  till  the  last  of  October,  in 
order  to  assist  her  nephew  through  the  affair  and  play 
the  part  of  a  mother  to  him.  After  conveying  the  first 
suggestions  to  Madame  Evangelista  the  experienced 
old  woman  returned  to  inform  Paul  of  the  results  of  the 
overture. 

"  My  child,"  she  said,  "  the  affair  is  won.  In  talk- 
ing of  property,  I  found  that  Madame  Evangelista 
gives  nothing  of  her  own  to  her  daughter.  Made- 
moiselle Natalie's  dowry  is  her  patrimony.  Marry  her, 
my  dear  boy.  Men  who  have  a  name  and  an  estate 
to  transmit,  a  family  to  continue,  must,  sooner  or  later, 
end  in  marriage.  I  wish  I  could  see  my  dear  Auguste 
taking  that  course.  You  can  now  carry  on  the  mar- 
riage without  me ;  I  have  nothing  to  give  you  but  my 
blessing,  and  women  as  old  as  I  are  out  of  place  at  a 
wedding.  I  leave  for  Paris  to-morrow.  When  you 
present  your  wife  in  society  I  shall  be  able  to  see  her 
and  assist  her  far  more  to  the  purpose  than  now.     If 


The  Marriage   Contract  39 

you  had  had  no  house  in  Paris  I  would  gladly  have 
arranged  the  second  floor  of  mine  for  you." 

"Dear  aunt,"  said  Paul,  "I  thank  you  heartily. 
But  what  do  you  mean  when  you  say  that  the  mother 
gives  nothing  of  her  own,  and  that  the  daughter's  dowry 
is  her  patrimony  ?  " 

"The  mother,  my  dear  boy,  is  a  sly  cat,  who 
takes  advantage  of  her  daughter's  beauty  to  impose 
conditions  and  allow  you  only  that  which  she  can- 
not prevent  you  from  having ;  namely,  the  daughter's 
fortune  from  her  father.  We  old  people  know  the  im- 
portance of  inquiring  closely,  What  has  he?  What 
has  she?  I  advise  you  therefore  to  give  particular  in- 
structions to  your  notary.  The  marriage  contract, 
my  dear  child,  is  the  most  sacred  of  all  duties.  If 
your  father  and  your  mother  had  not  made  their  bed 
properly  you  might  now  be  sleeping  without  sheets. 
You  will  have  children,  they  are  the  commonest  results 
of  marriage,  and  you  must  think  of  them.  Consult 
Maitre  Mathias  our  old  notary." 

Madame  de  Maulincour  departed,  having  plunged 
Paul  into  a  state  of  extreme  perplexity.  His  mother- 
in-law  a  sly  cat !  Must  he  struggle  for  his  interests 
in  the  marriage  contract  ?  Was  it  necessary  to  defend 
them  ?     Who  was  likely  to  attack  them  ? 

He  followed  the  advice  of  his  aunt  and  confided  the 
drawing-up  of  the  marriage  contract  to  Maitre  Mathias. 
But  these  threatened  discussions  oppressed  him,  and  he 
went  to  see  Madame  Evangelista  and  announce  his  in- 
tentions in  a  state  of  rather  lively  agitation.  Like  all 
timid  men,  he  shrank  from  allowing  the  distrust  his 
aunt  had  put  into  his  mind  to  be  seen ;  in  fact,  he  con- 


40  The  Marriage   Contract. 

sidered  it  insulting.  To  avoid  even  a  slight  jar  with  a 
person  so  imposing  to  his  mind  as  his  future  mother-in- 
law,  he  proceeded  to  state  his  intentions  with  the  cir- 
cumlocution natural  to  persons  who  dare  not  face  a 
difficulty. 

"  Madame,"  he  said,  choosing  a  moment  when  Natalie 
was  absent  from  the  room,  "you  know,  of  course, 
what  a  family  notary  is.  Mine  is  a  worthy  old  man,  to 
whom  it  would  be  a  sincere  grief  if  he  were  not  in- 
trusted with  the  drawing  of  my  marriage  contract." 

"  Why,  of  course!"  said  Madame  Evangelista,  in- 
terrupting him,  "  but  are  not  marriage  contracts  always 
made  by  agreement  of  the  notaries  of  both  families  ? '; 

The  time  that  Paul  took  to  reply  to  this  question 
was  occupied  by  Madame  Evangelista  in  asking  her- 
self, ' '  What  is  he  thinking  of?  "  for  women  possess  in 
an  eminent  degree  the  art  of  reading  thoughts  from  the 
play  of  countenance.  She  divined  the  instigations  of 
the  great-aunt  in  the  embarrassed  glance  and  the  agi- 
tated tone  of  voice  which  betrayed  an  inward  struggle 
in  Paul's  mind. 

u  At  last,"  she  thought  to  herself,  "  the  fatal  day 
has  come  ;  the  crisis  begins  —  how  will  it  end  ?  My 
notary  is  Monsieur  Solonet,"  she  said,  after  a  pause. 
"  Yours,  I  think  you  said,  is  Monsieur  Mathias ;  I  will 
invite  them  to  dinner  to-morrow,  and  they  can  come  to 
an  understanding  then.  It  is  their  business  to  concili- 
ate our  interests  without  our  interference ;  just  as  good 
cooks  are  expected  to  furnish  good  food  without 
instructions." 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,"  said  Paul,  letting  a  faint 
sigh  of  relief  escape  him. 


The  Marriage  Contract.  41 

By  a  singular  transposition  of  parts,  Paul,  innocent  of 
all  wrong-doing,  trembled,  while  Madame  Evangelista, 
though  a  prey  to  the  utmost  anxiety,  was  outwardly 
calm. 

The  widow  owed  her  daughter  one-third  of  the  for- 
tune  left  by  Monsieur  Evangelista,  —  namely,  nearly 
twelve  hundred  thousand  francs,  —  and  she  knew  herself 
unable  to  pay  it,  even  by  taking  the  whole  of  her  prop- 
erty to  do  so.  She  would  therefore  be  placed  at  the 
mercy  of  a  son-in-law.  Though  she  might  be  able  to 
control  Paul  if  left  to  himself,  would  he,  when  enlight- 
ened by  his  notary,  agree  to  release  her  from  rendering 
her  account  as  guardian  of  her  daughter's  patrimony? 
If  Paul  withdrew  his  proposals  all  Bordeaux  would  know 
the  reason  and  Natalie's  future  marriage  would  be  made 
impossible.  This  mother,  who  desired  the  happiness 
of  her  daughter,  this  woman,  who  from  infancy  had 
lived  honorably,  was  aware  that  on  the  morrow  she 
must  become  dishonest.  Like  those  great  warriors 
who  fain  would  blot  from  their  lives  the  moment  when 
they  had  felt  a  secret  cowardice,  she  ardently  desired 
co  cut  this  inevitable  day  from  the  record  of  hers. 
Most  assuredly  some  hairs  on  her  head  must  have 
whitened  during  the  night,  when,  face  to  face  with 
facts,  she  bitterly  regretted  her  extravagance  as  she 
relt  the  hard  necessities  of  the  situation. 

Among  these  necessities  was  that  of  confiding  the 
truth  to  her  notary,  for  whom  she  sent  in  the  morning 
as  soon  as  she  rose.  She  was  forced  to  reveal  to  him 
a  secret  defaulting  she  had  never  been  willing  to  admit 
to  herself,  for  she  had  steadily  advanced  to  the  abyss, 
relying  on  some   chance    accident,   which   never   hap- 


42  The  Marriage  Contract. 

pened,  to  relieve  her.  There  rose  in  her  soul  a  feeling 
against  Paul,  that  was  neither  dislike,  nor  aversion,  nor 
anything,  as  yet,  unkind ;  but  he  was  the  cause  of  this 
crisis ;  the  opposing  party  in  this  secret  suit ;  he  be- 
came, without  knowing  it,  an  innocent  enemy  she  was 
forced  to  conquer.  What  human  being  did  ever  yet 
love  his  or  her  dupe?  Compelled  to  deceive  and  trick 
him  if  she  could,  the  Spanish  woman  resolved,  like 
other  women,  to  put  her  whole  force  of  character  into 
the  struggle,  the  dishonor  of  which  could  be  absolved 
by  victory  only. 

In  the  stillness  of  the  night  she  excused  her  conduct 
to  her  own  mind  by  a  tissue  of  arguments  in  which  her 
pride  predominated.  Natalie  had  shared  the  benefit 
of  her  extravagance.  There  was  not  a  single  base  or 
ignoble  motive  in  what  she  had  done.  She  was  no 
accountant,  but  was  that  a  crime,  a  delinquency?  A 
man  was  only  too  lucky  to  obtain  a  wife  like  Natalie 
without  a  penny.  Such  a  treasure  bestowed  upon  him 
might  surely  release  her  from  a  guardianship  account. 
How  many  men  had  bought  the  women  they  loved  by 
greater  sacrifices  ?  Why  should  a  man  do  less  for  a  wife 
than  for  a  mistress?  Besides,  Paul  was  a  nullity,  a 
man  of  no  force,  incapable ;  she  would  spend  the  best 
resources  of  her  mind  upon  him  and  open  to  him  a  fine 
career ;  he  should  owe  his  future  power  and  position  to 
her  influence  ;  in  that  way  she  could  pay  her  debt.  He 
would  indeed  be  a  fool  to  refuse  such  a  future ;  and  for 
what?  a  few  paltry  thousands,  more  or  less.  He 
would  be  infamous  if  he  withdrew  for  such  a  reason. 

"But,"  she  added,  to  herself,  "if  the  negotiation 
does  not  succeed  at  once,  I  shall  leave  Bordeaux.     I 


The  Marriage    Contract.  43 

can  still  find  a  good  marriage  for  Natalie  by  investing 
the  proceeds  of  what  is  left,  house  and  diamonds  and 
furniture,  —  keeping  only  a  small  income  for  myself." 

When  a  strong  soul  constructs  a  way  of  ultimate 
escape,  —  as  Richelieu  did  at  Brouage,  —  and  holds  in 
reserve  a  vigorous  end,  the  resolution  becomes  a  lever 
which  strengthens  its  immediate  way.  The  thought  of 
this  finale  in  case  of  failure  comforted  Madame  Evan- 
gelista, who  fell  asleep  with  all  the  more  confidence  as 
she  remembered  her  assistant  in  the  coming  duel. 

This  was  a  young  man  named  Solonet,  considered  the 
ablest  notaiy  in  Bordeaux ;  now  twenty-seven  years 
of  age  and  decorated  with  the  Legion  of  honor  for 
having  actively  contributed  to  the  second  return  of  the 
Bourbons.  Proud  and  happy  to  be  received  in  the 
home  of  Madame  Evangelista,  less  as  a  notary  than  as 
belonging  to  the  royalist  society  of  Bordeaux,  Solonet 
had  conceived  for  that  fine  setting  sun  one  of  those 
passions  which  women  like  Madame  Evangelista  re- 
pulse, although  flattered  and  graciously  allowing  them 
to  exist  upon  the  surface.  Solonet  remained  therefore  in 
a  self-satisfied  condition  of  hope  and  becoming  respect. 
Being  sent  for,  he  arrived  the  next  morning  with  the 
promptitude  of  a  slave  and  was  received  by  the  coquet- 
tish widow  in  her  bedroom,  where  she  allowed  him  to 
find  her  in  a  very  becoming  dishabille. 

"  Can  I,"  she  said,  "  couut  upon  your  discretion  and 
your  entire  devotion  in  a  discussion  which  will  take  place 
in  my  house  this  evening?  You  will  readily  understand 
that  it  relates  to  the  marriage  of  my  daughter." 

The  young  man  expended  himself  in  gallant  protes- 
tations. 


44  The  Marriage    Contract. 

"  Now  to  the  point,"  she  said. 

"  I  am  listening,''  he  replied,  checking  his  ardor. 

Madame  Evangelista  then  stated  her  position 
baldly. 

"  My  dear  lady,  that  is  nothing  to  be  troubled 
about,"  said  Maitre  Solonet,  assuming  a  confident  air 
as  soon  as  his  client  had  given  him  the  exact  figures. 
"  The  question  is  how  have  you  conducted  yourself 
toward  Monsieur  de  Manerville?  In  this  matter  ques- 
tions of  manner  and  deportment  are  of  greater  impor- 
tance than  those  of  law  and  finance." 

Madame  Evangelista  wrapped  herself  in  dignity. 
The  notary  learned  to  his  satisfaction  that  until  the 
present  moment  his  client's  relations  to  Paul  had  been 
distant  and  reserved,  and  that  partly  from  native  pride 
and  partly  from  involuntary  shrewdness  she  had  treated 
the  Comte  de  Manerville  as  in  some  sense  her  inferior 
and  as  though  it  were  an  honor  for  him  to  be  allowed 
to  marry  Mademoiselle  Evangelista.  She  assured 
Solonet  that  neither  she  nor  her  daughter  could  be  sus- 
pected of  any  mercenary  interests  in  the  marriage  ;  that 
they  had  the  right,  should  Paul  make  any  financial 
difficulties,  to  retreat  from  the  affair  to  an  illim 
itable  distance ;  and  finally,  that  she  had  already  ac- 
quired over  her  future  son-in-law  a  very  remarkable 
ascendency. 

"  If  that  is  so,"  said  Solonet,  "  tell  me  what  are  the 
utmost  concessions  you  are  willing  to  make." 

"  I  wish  to  make  as  few  as  possible,"  she  answered, 
laughing. 

"A  woman's  answer,"  cried  Solonet.  "Madame, 
are  you  anxious  to  marry  Mademoiselle  Natalie  ?  " 


The  Marriage   Contract.  45 

44  Yes." 

44  And  you  want  a  receipt  for  the  eleven  hundred  and 
fifty-six  thousand  francs,  for  which  you  are  responsible 
on  the  guardianship  account  which  the  law  obliges  you 
to  render  to  your  son-in-law  ? " 

k4Yes." 

"  How  much  do  you  want  to  keep  back?  " 

14  Thirty  thousand  a  year,  at  least." 

"  It  is  a  question  of  conquer  or  die,  is  it?  " 

44  It  is." 

44  Well,  then,  I  must  reflect  on  the  necessary  means 
to  that  end ;  it  will  need  all  our  cleverness  to  manage 
our  forces.  I  will  give  you  some  instructions  on  my 
arrival  this  evening ;  follow  them  carefully,  and  I  think 
I  may  promise  you  a  successful  issue.  Is  the  Comte  de 
Manerville  in  love  with  Mademoiselle  Natalie?"  he 
asked  as  he  rose  to  take  leave. 

44  He  adores  her." 

44  That  is  not  enough.  Does  he  desire  her  to  the 
point  of  disregarding  all  pecuniary  difficulties  ?  " 

44  Yes." 

44  That's  what  I  call  having  a  lien  upon  a  daughter's 
property,"  cried  the  notary.  "  Make  her  look  her  best 
to-night,"  he  added  with  a  sly  glance. 

44  She  has  a  most  charming  dress  for  the  occasion." 

4 'The  marriage-contract  dress  is,  in  my  opinion, 
half  the  battle,"  said  Solonet. 

This  last  argument  seemed  so  cogent  to  Madame 
Evangelista  that  she  superintended  Natalie's  toilet 
herself,  as  much  perhaps  to  watch  her  daughter  as  to 
make  her  the  innocent  accomplice  of  her  financial 
conspiracy. 


46  The  Marriage    Contract. 

With  her  hair  dressed  a,  la  Sevigne  and  wearing  a 
gown  of  white  tulle  adorned  with  pink  ribbons,  Natalie 
seemed  to  her  mother  so  beautiful  as  to  guarantee 
victory.  When  the  lady's-maid  left  the  room  and 
Madame  Evangelista  was  certain  that  no  one  could 
overhear  her,  she  arranged  a  few  curls  on  her  daughter's 
head  by  way  of  exordium. 

"  Dear  child,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  that  was  firm 
apparently,  "  do  you  sincerely  love  the  Comte  de 
Manerville?" 

Mother  and  daughter  cast  strange  looks  at  each 
other. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  that  question,  little  mother?  and 
to-day  more  than  yesterday?  Why  have  you  thrown 
me  with  him  ?  " 

"  If  you  and  I  had  -to  part  forever  would  you  still 
persist  in  the  marriage  ?  " 

"I  should  give  it  up  —  and  I  should  not  die  of 
grief." 

"You  do  not  love  him,  my  dear,"  said  the  mother, 
kissing  her  daughter's  forehead. 

"But  why,  my  dear  mother,  are  you  playing  the 
Grand  Inquisitor?" 

"  I  wished  to  know  if  you  desired  the  marriage  with- 
out being  madly  in  love  with  the  husband." 

"I  love  him." 

'*  And  you  are  right.  He  is  a  count;  we  will  make 
him  a  peer  of  France  between  us ;  nevertheless,  there 
are  certain  difficulties." 

"  Difficulties  between  persons  who  love  each  other? 
Oh,  no.  The  heart  of  the  Pink  of  Fashion  is  too 
firmly  planted  here,"  sue  said,  with  a  pretty  gesture, 


The  Marriage   Contract.  47 

"to  make  the  very  slightest  objection.  I  am  sure  of 
that." 

"  But  suppose  it  were  otherwise?  "  persisted  Madame 
Evangelista. 

"  He  would  be  profoundly  and  forever  forgotten," 
replied  Natalie. 

''Good!  You  are  a  Casa-Reale.  But  suppose, 
though  he  madly  loves  you,  suppose  certain  discussions 
and  difficulties  should  arise,  not  of  his  own  making, 
but  which  he  must  decide  in  your  interests  as  well  as  in 
mine  —  hey,  Natalie,  what  then?  Without  lowering 
your  dignity,  perhaps  a  little  softness  in  your  manner 
might  decide  him  —  a  word,  a  tone,  a  mere  nothing. 
Men  are  so  made ;  they  resist  a  serious  argument,  but 
they  yield  to  a  tender  look." 

"I  understand!  a  little  touch  to  make  my  Favori 
leap  the  barrier,"  said  Natalie,  making  the  gesture  of 
striking  a  horse  with  her  whip. 

"My  darling!  I  ask  nothing  that  resembles  seduc- 
tion. You  and  I  have  sentiments  of  the  old  Castilian 
honor  which  will  never  permit  us  to  pass  certain 
limits.     Count  Paul  shall  know  our  situation." 

"  What  situation?" 

"  You  would  not  understand  it.  But  I  tell  you 
now  that  if  after  seeing  you  in  all  your  glory  his  look 
betrays  the  slightest  hesitation,  —  and  I  shall  watch 
him,  — on  that  instant  I  will  break  off  the  marriage  ;  I 
will  liquidate  my  property,  leave  Bordeaux,  and  go  to 
Douai,  to  be  near  the  Claes.  Madame  Claes  is  our 
relation  through  the  Temnincks.  Then  I  '11  marry  you 
to  a  peer  of  France,  and  take  refuge  in  a  convent  my- 
self, that  I  may  give  up  to  you  my  whole  fortune." 


48  The  Marriage    Contract. 

"  Mother,  what  am  I  to  do  to  prevent  such  misfor- 
tunes? "cried  Natalie. 

"  I  have  never  seen  you  so  beautiful  as  you  are  now," 
replied  her  mother.  "Be  a  little  coquettish,  and  all 
is  well." 

Madame  £vangelista  left  Natalie  to  her  thoughts, 
and  went  to  arrange  her  own  toilet  in  a  way  that 
would  bear  comparison  with  that  of  her  daughter.  If 
Natalie  ought  to  make  herself  attractive  to  Paul  she 
ought,  none  the  less,  to  inflame  the  ardor  of  her  cham- 
pion Solonet.  The  mother  and  daughter  were  there- 
fore under  arms  when  Paul  arrived,  bearing  the  bouquet 
which  for  the  last  few  months  he  had  daily  offered  to 
his  love.  All  three  conversed  pleasantly  while  await- 
ing the  arrival  of  the  notaries. 

This  day  brought  to  Paul  the  first  skirmish  of  that 
long  and  wearisome  warfare  called  marriage.  It  is 
therefore  necessary  to  state  the  forces  on  both  sides, 
the  position  of  the  belligerent  bodies,  and  the  ground 
on  which  they  are  about  to  manoeuvre. 

To  maintain  a  struggle,  the  importance  of  which  had 
wholly  escaped  him,  Paul's  only  auxiliary  was  the  old 
notary,  Mathias.  Both  were  about  to  be  confronted, 
unaware  and  defenceless,  by  a  most  unexpected  circum- 
stance ;  to  be  pressed  by  an  enemy  whose  strategy  was 
planned,  and  driven  to  decide  on  a  course  without  hav- 
ing time  to  reflect  upon  it.  Where  is  the  man  who 
would  not  have  succumbed,  even  though  assisted  by 
Cujas  and  Barthole?  How  should  he  look  for  deceit 
and  treachery  where  all  seemed  compliant  and  natural? 
What  could  old  Mathias  do  alone  against  Madame 
Evangelista,   against  Solonet,    against   Natalie,    espe- 


The  Marriage   Contract.  49 

cially  when  a  client  in  love  goes  over  to  the  enemy  as 
soon  as  the  rising  conflict  threatens  his  happiness? 
Already  Paul  was  damaging  his  cause  by  making  the 
customary  lover's  speeches,  to  which  his  passion  gave 
excessive  value  in  the  ears  of  Madame  Evangelista, 
whose  object  it  was  to  drive  him  to  commit  himself. 

The  matrimonial  condottieri  now  about  to  fight  for 
their  clients,  whose  personal  powers  were  to  be  so 
vitally  important  in  this  solemn  encounter,  the  two 
notaries,  in  short,  represent  individually  the  old  and  the 
new  systems,  —  old-fashioned  notarial  usage,  and  the 
new-fangled  modern  procedure. 

Maitre  Mathias  was  a  worthy  old  gentleman  sixty- 
nine  years  of  age,  who  took  great  pride  in  his  forty 
years'  exercise  of  the  profession.  His  huge  gouty  feet 
were  encased  in  shoes  with  silver  buckles,  making  a 
ridiculous  termination  to  legs  so  spindling,  with  knees 
so  bony,  that  when  he  crossed  them  they  made  you 
think  of  the  emblems  on  a  tombstone.  His  puny  little 
thighs,  lost  in  a  pair  of  wide  black  breeches  fastened 
with  buckles,  seemed  to  bend  beneath  the  weight  of  a 
round  stomach  and  a  torso  developed,  like  that  of  most 
sedentary  persons,  into  a  stout  barrel,  always  buttoned 
into  a  green  coat  with  square  tails,  which  no  man  could 
remember  to  have  ever  seen  new.  His  hair,  well 
brushed  and  powdered,  was  tied  in  a  rat's  tail  that  lay 
between  the  collar  of  his  coat  •  and  that  of  his  waist- 
coat, which  was  white,  with  a  pattern  of  flowers. 
With  his  round  head,  his  face  the  color  of  a  vine- 
leaf,  his  blue  eyes,  a  trumpet  nose,  a  thick-lipped 
mouth,  and  a  double  chin,  the  dear  old  fellow  excited, 
whenever  he   appeared  among  strangers  who  did  not 

4 


50  The  Marriage    Contract. 

know  him,  that  satirical  laugh  which  Frenchmen  so 
generously  bestow  on  the  ludicrous  creations  Dame 
Nature  occasionally  allows  herself,  which  Art  delights 
in  exaggerating  under  the  name  of  caricatures. 

But  in  Maitre  Mathias,  mind  had  triumphed  over 
form ;  the  qualities  of  his  soul  had  vanquished  the  od- 
dities of  his  body.  The  inhabitants  of  Bordeaux,  as  a 
rule,  testified  a  friendly  respect  and  a  deference  that 
was  full  of  esteem  for  him.  The  old  man's  voice  went 
to  their  hearts  and  sounded  there  with  the  eloquence  of 
uprightness.  His  craft  consisted  in  going  straight  to 
the  fact,  overturning  all  subterfuge  and  evil  devices 
by  plain  questionings.  His  quick  perception,  his  long 
training  in  his  profession  gave  him  that  divining  sense 
which  goes  to  the  depths  of  conscience  and  reads  its 
secret  thoughts.  Though  grave  and  deliberate  in  busi- 
ness, the  patriarch  could  be  gay  with  the  gayety  of  our 
ancestors.  He  could  risk  a  song  after  dinner,  enjoy 
all  family  festivities,  celebrate  the  birthdays  of  grand- 
mothers and  children,  and  bury  with  due  solemnity  the 
Christmas  log.  He  loved  to  send  presents  at  New 
Year,  and  eggs  at  Easter  ;  he  believed  in  the  duties  of 
a  godfather,  and  never  deserted  the  customs  which 
colored  the  life  of  the  olden  time.  Maitre  Mathias 
was  a  noble  and  venerable  relic  of  the  notaries,  obscure 
great  men,  who  gave  no  receipt  for  the  millions  in- 
trusted to  them,  but  returned  those  millions  in  the 
sacks  they  were  delivered  in,  tied  with  the  same  twine ; 
men  who  fulfilled  their  trusts  to  the  letter,  drew  honest 
inventories,  took  fatherly  interest  in  their  clients,  often 
barring  the  way  to  extravagance  and  dissipation,  — 
men  to  whom  families  confided  their  secrets,  and  who 


The  Marriage    Contract.  51 

felt  so  responsible  for  any  error  in  their  deeds  that  they 
meditated  long  and  carefully  over  them.  Never  dur- 
ing his  whole  notarial  life,  had  any  client  found  reason 
to  complain  of  a  bad  investment  or  an  ill-placed  mort- 
gage. His  own  fortune,  slowly  but  honorably  ac- 
quired, had  come  to  him  as  the  result  of  a  thirty  years' 
practice  and  careful  economy.  He  had  established  in 
life  fourteen  of  his  clerks.  Religious,  and  generous  in 
secret,  Mathias  was  found  wherever  good  was  to  be 
done  without  remuneration.  An  active  member  on  hos- 
pital and  other  benevolent  committees,  he  subscribed 
the  largest  sums  to  relieve  all  sudden  misfortunes  and 
emergencies,  as  well  as  to  create  certain  useful  perma- 
nent institutions ;  consequently,  neither  he  nor  his 
wife  kept  a  carriage.  Also  his  word  was  felt  to  be 
sacred,  and  his  coffers  held  as  much  of  the  money  of 
others  as  a  bank ;  and  also,  we  may  add,  he  went  by 
the  name  of  u  Our  good  Monsieur  Mathias,"  and  when 
he  died,  three  thousand  persons  followed  him  to  his 
grave. 

Solonet  was  the  style  of  young  notary  who  comes  in 
humming  a  tune,  affects  light-heartedness,  declares 
that  business  is  better  done  with  a  lausfh  than  seri- 
ously.  He  is  the  notary  captain  of  the  national  guard, 
who  dislikes  to  be  taken  for  a  notarv,  solicits  the  cross 
of  the  Legion  of  honor,  keeps  his  cabriolet,  and  leaves 
the  verification  of  his  deeds  to  his  clerks ;  he  is  the 
notary  who  goes  to  balls  and  theatres,  buys  pic- 
tures and  plays  at  ecarte ;  he  has  coffers  in  which  gold 
is  received  on  deposit  and  is  later  returned  in  bank- 
bills,  —  a  notary  who  follows  his  epoch,  risks  capital  in 
doubtful  investments,  speculates  with  all  he  can  lay  his 


52  The  Marriage   Contract. 

hands  on,  and  expects  to  retire  with  an  income  of 
thirty  thousand  francs  after  ten  years'  practice ;  in 
short,  the  notary  whose  cleverness  comes  of  his  dupli- 
city, whom  many  men  fear  as  an  accomplice  possessing 
their  secrets,  and  who  sees  in  his  practice  a  means  of 
ultimately  marrying  some  blue-stockinged  heiress. 

When  the  slender,  fair-haired  Solonet,  curled,  per- 
fumed, and  booted  like  the  leading  gentleman  at  the 
Vaudeville,  and  dressed  like  a  dandy  whose  most  im- 
portant  business  is  a  duel,  entered  Madame  Evan- 
gelista's  salon,  preceding  his  brother  notary,  whose 
advance  was  delayed  by  a  twinge  of  the  gout,  the  two 
men  presented  to  the  life  one  of  those  famous  carica- 
tures entitled  "Former  Times  and  the  Present  Day," 
which  had  such  eminent  success  under  the  Empire.  If 
Madame  and  Mademoiselle  Evaugelista  to  whom  the 
"  good  Monsieur  Mathias,"  was  personally  unknown, 
felt,  on  first  seeing  him,  a  slight  inclination  to  laugh, 
they  were  soon  touched  by  the  old-fashioned  grace 
with  which  he  greeted  them.  The  words  he  used  were 
full  of  that  amenity  which  amiable  old  men  convey  as 
much  by  the  ideas  they  suggest  as  by  the  manner  in 
which  they  express  them.  The  younger  notary,  with 
his  flippant  tone,  seemed  on  a  lower  plane.  Mathias 
showed  his  superior  knowledge  of  life  by  the  reserved 
manner  with  which  he  accosted  Paul.  Without  com- 
promising his  white  hairs,  he  showed  that  he  respected 
the  young  man's  nobility,  while  at  the  same  time  he 
claimed  the  honor  due  to  old  age,  and  made  it  felt  that 
social  rights  are  mutual.  Solonet's  bow  and  greeting, 
on  the  contrary,  expressed  a  sense  of  perfect  equality, 
which  would  naturally  affront  the  pretensions  of  a  man 


The  Marriage   Contract.  53 

of  society  and  make  the  notary  ridiculous  in  the  eyes 
of  a  real  noble.  Solonet  made  a  motion,  somewhat  too 
familiar,  to  Madame  Evangelista,  inviting  her  to  a 
private  conference  in  the  recess  of  a  window.  For 
some  minutes  they  talked  to  each  other  in  a  low  voice, 
giving  way  now  and  then  to  laughter,  —  no  doubt  to 
lessen  in  the  minds  of  others  the  importance  of  the 
conversation,  in  which  Solonet  was  really  communicat- 
ing to  his  sovereign  lady  the  plan  of  battle. 

"But,"  he  said,  as  he  ended,  "will  you  have  the 
courage  to  sell  your  house  ?  " 

"  Undoubtedly,"  she  replied. 

Madame  Evangelista  did  not  choose  to  tell  her  notary 
the  motive  of  this  heroism,  which  struck  him  greatly. 
Solonet's  zeal  might  have  cooled  had  he  known  that 
his  client  was  really  intending  to  leave  Bordeaux. 
She  had  not  as  yet  said  anything  about  that  intention 
to  Paul,  in  order  not  to  alarm  him  with  the  preliminary 
steps  and  circumlocutions  which  must  be  taken  before 
he  entered  on  the  political  life  she  planned  for  him. 

After  dinner  the  two  plenipotentaries  left  the  loving 
pair  with  the  mother,  and  betook  themselves  to  an  ad- 
joining salon  where  their  conference  was  arranged  to 
take  place.  A  dual  scene  then  followed  on  this  domes- 
tic stage :  in  the  chimney-corner  of  the  great  salon  a 
scene  of  love,  in  which  to  all  appearance  life  was 
smiles  and  joy;  in  the  other  room,  a  scene  of  gravity 
and  gloom,  where  selfish  interests,  baldly  proclaimed, 
openly  took  the  part  they  play  in  life  under  flowery 
disguises. 

"  My  dear  master,"  said  Solonet,  "  the  document  can 
remain  under  your  lock  and  key ;  I  know  very  well  what 


54  The  Marriage   Contract. 

I  owe  to  my  old  preceptor."  Mathias  bowed  gravely. 
"  But,"  continued  Solonet,  unfolding  the  rough  copy 
of  a  deed  he  had  made  his  clerk  draw  up,  "as  we  are 
the  oppressed  party,  I  mean  the  daughter,  I  have 
written  the  contract  —  which  will  save  you  trouble. 
We  marry  with  our  rights  under  the  rule  of  community 
of  interests ;  with  general  donation  of  our  property  to 
each  other  in  case  of  death  without  heirs ;  if  not,  dona- 
tion of  one-fourth  as  life  interest,  and  one-fourth  in 
fee ;  the  sum  placed  in  community  of  interests  to  be 
one-fourth  of  the  respective  property  of  each  party ; 
the  survivor  to  possess  the  furniture  without  appraisal. 
It 's  all  as  simple  as  how  d'  ye  do." 

"Ta,  ta,  ta,  ta,"  said  Mathias,  "  I  don't  do  business 
as  one  sings  a  tune.     What  are  your  claims?  " 

"  What  are  yours?  "  said  Solonet. 

"Our  property"  replied  Mathias,  "is:  the  estate 
of  Lanstrac,  which  brings  in  a  rental  of  twenty-three 
thousand  francs  a  year,  not  counting  the  natural  pro- 
ducts. Item :  the  farms  of  Grassol  and  Gaudet,  each 
worth  three  thousand  six  hundred  francs  a  year. 
Item, :  the  vineyard  of  Belle-Rose,  yielding  in  ordinary 
years  sixteen  thousand  francs  ;  total,  forty-six  thou- 
sand two  hundred  francs  a  year.  Item :  the  patrimo- 
nial mansion  at  Bordeaux  taxed  for  nine  hundred 
francs.  Item :  a  handsome  house,  between  court  and 
garden  in  Paris,  rue  de  la  Pepiniere,  taxed  for  fifteen 
hundred  francs.  These  pieces  of  property,  the  title- 
deeds  of  which  I  hold,  are  derived  from  our  father  and 
mother,  except  the  house  in  Paris,  which  we  bought 
ourselves.  We  must  also  reckon  in  the  furniture  of 
the  two  houses,  and  that  of  the  chateau  of  Lanstrac, 


The  Marriage   Contract.  55 

estimated  at  four  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs. 
There 's  the  table,  the  cloth,  and  the  first  course. 
What  do  you  bring  for  the  second  course  and  the 
dessert?  " 

"  Our  rights,"  replied  Solonet. 

"  Specify  them,  my  friend,"  said  Mathias.  "What 
do  you  bring  us?  Where  is  the  inventory  of  the  prop- 
erty left  by  Monsieur  Evangelista?  Show  me  the 
liquidation,  the  investment  of  the  amount.  Where  is 
your  capital  ?  —  if  there  is  any  capital.  Where  is 
your  landed  property?  —  if  you  have  any.  In  short, 
let  us  see  your  guardianship  account,  and  tell  us  what 
you  bring  and  what  your  mother  will  secure  to  us." 

"  Does  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Manerville  love  Made- 
moiselle Evangelista?" 

"  He  wishes  to  make  her  his  wife  if  the  marriage  can 
be  suitably  arranged,"  said  the  old  notary.  "  I  am  not 
a  child ;  this  matter  concerns  our  business,  and  not  our 
feelings." 

"  The  marriage  will  be  off  unless  you  show  gener- 
ous feeling;  and  for  this  reason,"  continued  Solonet. 
u  No  inventory  was  made  at  the  death  of  our  husband ; 
we  are  Spaniards,  Creoles,  and  know  nothing  of  French 
laws.  Besides,  we  were  too  deeply  grieved  at  our  loss 
to  think  at  such  a  time  of  the  miserable  formalities 
which  occupy  cold  hearts.  It  is  publicly  well  known 
that  our  late  husband  adored  us,  and  that  we  mourned 
for  him  sincerely.  If  we  did  have  a  settlement  of  ac- 
counts with  a  short  inventory  attached,  made,  as  one 
may  say,  by  common  report,  you  can  thank  our  surro- 
gate guardian,  who  obliged  us  to  establish  a  status  and 
assign  to  our  daughter  a  fortune,  such  as  it  is,  at  a 


56  The  Marriage   Contract. 

time  when  we  were  forced  to  withdraw  from  London 
our  English  securities,  the  capital  of  which  was  im- 
mense, and  re-invest  the  proceeds  in  Paris,  where  inter- 
ests were  doubled." 

"  Don't  talk  nonsense  to  me.  There  are  various 
ways  of  verifying  the  property.  What  was  the  amount 
of  your  legacy  tax?  Those  figures  will  enable  us  to 
get  at  the  total.  Come  to  the  point.  Tell  us  frankly 
what  you  received  from  the  father's  estate  and  how 
much  remains  of  it.  If  we  are  very  much  in  love 
we'll  see  then  what  we  can  do." 

"  If  you  are  marrying  us  for  our  money  you  can  go 
about  your  business.  We  have  claims  to  more  than  a 
million  ;  but  all  that  remains  to  our  mother  is  this  house 
and  furniture  and  four  hundred  odd  thousand  francs 
invested  about  1817  in  the  Five-per-cents,  which  yield 
about  forty  thousand  francs  a  year." 

"  Then  why  do  you  live  in  a  style  that  requires  one 
hundred  thousand  a  year  at  the  least?"  cried  Mathias, 
horror-stricken. 

"  Our  daughter  has  cost  us  the  eyes  out  of  our 
head,"  replied  Solonet,  u  Besides,  we  like  to  spend 
money.  Your  jeremiads,  let  me  tell  you,  won't  re- 
cover two  farthings  of  the  money." 

"  With  the  fifty  thousand  francs  a  year  which  be- 
longed to  Mademoiselle  Natalie  you  could  have  brought 
her  up  handsomely  without  coming  to  ruin.  But  if  you 
have  squandered  everything  while  you  were  a  girl  what 
will  it  be  when  you  a  married  woman  ?  " 

"Then  drop  us  altogether,"  said  Solonet,  "The 
handsomest  girl  in  Bordeaux  has  a  right  to  spend  more 
than  she  has,  if  she  likes." 


The  Marriage    Contract.  57 

"I'll  talk  to  my  client  about  that,"  said  the  old 
notary. 

"  Very  good,  old  father  Cassandra,  go  and  tell  your 
client  that  we  have  n't  a  penny,"  thought  Solonet,  who, 
in  the  solitude  of  his  study,  had  strategically  massed 
his  forces,  drawn  up  his  propositions,  manned  the 
drawbridge  of  discussion,  and  prepared  the  point  at 
which  the  opposing  party,  thinking  the  affair  a  failure, 
could  suddenly  be  led  into  a  compromise  which  would 
end  in  the  triumph  of  his  client. 

The  white  dress  with  its  rose-colored  ribbons,  the 
Sevigne  curls,  Natalie's  tiny  foot,  her  winning  glance, 
her  pretty  fingers  constantly  employed  in  adjusting 
curls  that  needed  no  adjustment,  these  girlish  manoeu- 
vres like  those  of  a  peacock  spreading  his  tail,  had 
brought  Paul  to  the  point  at  which  his  future  mother- 
in-law  desired  to  see  him.  He  was  intoxicated  with 
love,  and  his  eyes,  the  sure  thermometer  of  the  soul, 
indicated  the  degree  of  passion  at  which  a  man  com- 
mits a  thousand  follies. 

"  Natalie  is  so  beautiful,"  he  whispered  to  the 
mother,  "  that  I  can  conceive  the  frenzy  which  leads  a 
man  to  pay  for  his  happiness  by  death." 

Madame  Evangelista  replied  with  a  shake  of  her 
head :  — 

"Lover's  talk,  my  dear  count.  My  husband  never 
said  such  charming  things  to  me ;  but  he  married  me 
without  a  fortune  and  for  thirteen  years  he  never 
caused  me  one  moment's  pain." 

"  Is  that  a  lesson  you  are  giving  me?"  said  Paul, 
laughing. 

"  You  know  how  I  love  you,   my  dear   son,"    she 


58  The  Marriage  Contract. 

answered,  pressing  his   hand.     "  I  must   indeed  love 
you  well  to  give  you  my  Natalie." 

"  Give  me,  give  me?  "  said  the  young  girl,  waving  a 
screen  of  Indian  feathers,  "  what  are  you  whispering 
about  me  ?  " 

"  I  was  telling  her,"  replied  Paul,  "  how  much  I  love 
you,  since  etiquette  forbids  me  to  tell  it  to  you." 

"Why?" 

"  I  fear  to  say  too  much." 

"  Ah!  you  know  too  well  how  to  offer  the  jewels  of 
flattery.  Shall  I  tell  you  my  private  opinion  about 
you?  Well,  I  think  you  have  more  mind  than  a  lover 
ought  to  have.  To  be  the  Pink  of  Fashion  and  a  wit 
as  well,"  she  added,  dropping  her  eyes,  "  is  to  have  too 
many  advantages :  a  man  should  choose  between  them. 
I  fear  too,  myself." 

"And  why?" 

"  We  must  not  talk  in  this  way.  Mamma,  do  you 
not  think  that  this  conversation  is  dangerous  inasmuch 
as  the  contract  is  not  yet  signed  ?  " 

"  It  soon  will  be,"  said  Paul. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  Achilles  and  Nestor 
are  saying  to  each  other  in  the  next  room,"  said 
Natalie,  nodding  toward  the  door  of  the  little  salon 
with  a  childlike  expression  of  curiosity. 

"  They  are  talking  of  our  children  and  our  death  and 
a  lot  of  other  such  trifles ;  they  are  counting  our  gold 
to  see  if  we  can  keep  five  horses  in  the  stables.  They 
are  talking  also  of  deeds  of  gift ;  but  there,  I  have 
forestalled  them." 

"How  so?" 

"  Have  I  not  given  myself  wholly  to  you?  "  he  said, 


The  Marriage    Contract.  59 

looking  straight  at  the  girl,  whose  beauty  was  en- 
hanced by  the  blush  which  the  pleasure  of  this  answer 
brought  to  her  face. 

44  Mamma,  how  can  I  acknowledge  so  much  gen- 
erosity." 

"  My  dear  child,  you  have  a  lifetime  before  you  in 
which  to  return  it.  To  make  the  daily  happiness  of  a 
home,  is  to  bring  a  treasure  into  it.  I  had  no  other 
fortune  when  I  married." 

44  Do  you  like  Lanstrac?"  asked  Paul,  addressing 
Natalie. 

44  How  could  I  fail  to  like  the  place  where  you  were 
born?"  she  replied.     "  I  wish  I  could  see  your  house." 

"Our  house,"  said  Paul.  44Do  you  not  want  to 
know  if  I  shall  understand  your  tastes  and  arrange  the 
house  to  suit  you?  Your  mother  had  made  a  hus- 
band's task  most  difficult ;  you  have  always  been  so 
happy!  But  where  love  is  infinite,  nothing  is 
impossible." 

44  My  dear  children,"  said  Madame  Evangelista, 
44  do  you  feel  willing  to  stay  in  Bordeaux  after  your 
marriage?  If  you  have  the  courage  to  face  the  people 
here  who  know  you  and  will  watch  and  hamper  you,  so 
be  it !  But  if  you  feel  that  desire  for  a  solitude 
together  which  can  hardly  be  expressed,  let  us  go  to 
Paris  where  the  life  of  a  young  couple  can  pass  un- 
noticed in  the  stream.  There  alone  you  can  behave  as 
lovers  without  fearing  to  seem  ridiculous." 

44  You  are  quite  right,"  said  Paul,  4' but  I  shall 
hardly  have  time  to  get  my  house  ready.  However,  I 
will  write  to-night  to  de  Marsay,  the  friend  on  whom  I 
can  always  count  to  get  things  done  for  me." 


60  The  Marriage  Contract. 

At  the  moment  when  Paul,  like  all  young  men  accus- 
tomed to  satisfy  their  desires  without  previous  calcula- 
tion, was  inconsiderately  binding  himself  to  the 
expenses  of  a  stay  in  Paris,  Maltre  Mathias  entered 
the  salon  and  made  a  sign  to  his  client  that  he  wished 
to  speak  to  him. 

"  What  is  it,  my  friend?  "  asked  Paul,  following  the 
old  man  to  the  recess  of  a  window. 

41  Monsieur  le  comte,"  said  the  honest  lawyer, 
44  there  is  not  a  penny  of  dowry.  My  advice  is: 
put  off  the  conference  to  another  day,  so  that  you  may 
gain  time  to  consider  your  proper  course." 

44  Monsieur  Paul,"  said  Natalie,  "I  have  a  word  to 
say  in  private  to  you." 

Though  Madame  Evangelista's  face  was  calm,  no 
Jew  of  the  middle  ages  ever  suffered  greater  torture  in 
his  caldron  of  boiling  oil  than  she  was  enduring  in  her 
violet  velvet  gown.  Solonet  had  pledged  the  marriage 
to  her,  but  she  was  ignorant  of  the  means  and  condi- 
tions of  success.  The  anguish  of  this  uncertainty  was 
intolerable.  Possibly  she  owed  her  safety  to  her 
daughter's  disobedience.  Natalie  had  considered  the 
advice  of  her  mother  and  noticed  her  anxiety.  When 
she  saw  the  success  of  her  own  coquetry  she  was  struck 
to  the  heart  with  a  variety  of  contradictory  thoughts. 
Without  blaming  her  mother,  she  was  half-ashamed 
of  manoeuvres  the  object  of  which  was,  undoubtedly, 
some  personal  game.  She  was  also  seized  with  a  jeal- 
ous curiosity  which  is  easily  conceived.  She  wanted 
to  find  out  if  Paul  loved  her  well  enough  to  rise  above 
the  obstacles  that  her  mother  foresaw  and  which  she 
now  saw  clouding  the  face  of  the  old  lawyer.     These 


The  Marriage   Contract.  61 

ideas  and  sentiments  prompted  her  to  an  action  of 
loyalty  which  became  her  well.  But,  for  all  that,  the 
blackest  perfidy  could  not  have  been  as  dangerous  as 
her  present  innocence. 

4 'Paul,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  and  she  so  called 
him  for  the  first  time,  "  if  any  difficulties  as  to  property 
arise  to  separate  us,  remember  that  I  free  you  from  all 
engagements,  and  will  allow  you  to  let  the  blame  of 
such  a  rupture  rest  on  me." 

She  put  such  dignity  into  this  expression  of  her 
generosity  that  Paul  believed  in  her  disinterestedness 
and  in  her  ignorance  of  the  strange  fact  that  his  notary 
had  just  told  to  him.  He  pressed  the  young  girl's 
hand  and  kissed  it  like  a  man  to  whom  love  is  more 
precious  than  wealth.     Natalie  left  the  room. 

44  Sac-a-papier !  Monsieur  le  comte,  you  are  com- 
mitting a  great  folly,"  said  the  old  notary,  rejoining  his 
client. 

Paul  grew  thoughtful.  He  had  expected  to  unite 
Natalie's  fortune  with  his  own  and  thus  obtain  for  his 
married  life  an  income  of  one  hundred  thousand  francs 
a  year ;  and  however  much  a  man  may  be  in  love  he 
cannot  pass  without  emotion  and  anxiety  from  the 
prospect  of  a  hundred  thousand  to  the  certainty  of 
forty-six  thousand  francs  a  year  and  the  duty  of  pro- 
viding for  a  woman  accustomed  to  every  luxury. 

44  My  daughter  is  no  longer  here,"  said  Madame 
Evangelista,  advancing  almost  regally  toward  her  son- 
in-law  and  his  notary.  44May  I  be  told  what  is 
happening?  " 

44  Madame,"  replied  Mathias,  alarmed  at  Paul's 
silence,  44  an  obstacle  which  I  fear  will  delay  us  has 
arisen  —  " 


62  The  Marriage   Contract. 

At  these  words,  Maitre  Solonet  issued  from  the 
little  salon  and  cut  short  the  old  man's  speech  by  a 
remark  which  restored  Paul's  composure.  Overcome 
by  the  remembrance  of  his  gallant  speeches  and  his 
lover-like  behavior,  he  felt  unable  to  disown  them  or  to 
change  his  course.  He  longed,  for  the  moment,  to 
fling  himself  into  a  gulf ;  Solonet's  words  relieved 
him. 

"  There  is  a  way,"  said  the  younger  notary,  with  an 
easy  air,  "by  which  madame  can  meet  the  payment 
which  is  due  to  her  daughter.  Madame  Evaugelista 
possesses  forty  thousand  francs  a  year  from  an  invest- 
ment in  the  Five-per-cents,  the  capital  of  which  will 
soon  be  at  par,  if  not  above  it.  We  may  therefore 
reckon  it  at  eight  hundred  thousand  francs.  This 
house  and  garden  are  fully  worth  two  hundred  thou- 
sand. On  that  estimate,  Madame  can  convey  by  the 
marriage  contract  the  titles  of  that  property  to  her 
daughter,  reserving  only  a  life  interest  in  it  —  for  I 
conclude  that  Monsieur  le  comte  could  hardly  wish  to 
leave  his  mother-in-law  without  means?  Though 
Madame  has  certainly  run  through  her  fortune,  she  is 
still  able  to  make  good  that  of  her  daughter,  or  very 
nearly  so." 

"Women  are  most  unfortunate  in  having  no  know- 
ledge of  business,"  said  Madame  Evangelista.  "Have 
I  titles  to  property  ?  and  what  are  life-interests  ?  " 

Paul  was  in  a  sort  of  ecstasy  as  he  listened  to  the 
proposed  arrangement.  The  old  notary,  seeing  the 
trap,  and  his  client  with  one  foot  caught  in  it,  was 
petrified  for  a  moment,  as  he  said  to  himself:  — 

"I  am  certain  they  are  tricking  us." 


The  Marriage   Contract.  63 

"If  madame  will  follow  my  advice,"  said  Solonet, 
"she  will  secure  her  own  tranquillity.  By  sacrificing 
herself  in  this  way  she  may  be  sure  that  no  minors 
will  ultimately  harass  her  —  for  we  never  know  who 
may  live  and  who  may  die!  Monsieur  le  comte  will 
then  give  due  acknowledgment  in  the  marriage  con- 
tract of  having  received  the  sum  total  of  Mademoiselle 
Evangelista's  patrimonial  inheritance." 

Mathias  could  not  restrain  the  indignation  which 
shone  in  his  eyes  and  flushed  his  face. 

"And  that  sum,"  he  said,  shaking,  "is  —  " 

"One  million,  one  hundred  and  fifty-six  thousand 
francs  according  to  the  document  —  " 

"Why  don't  you  ask  Monsieur  le  comte  to  make 
over  hie  et  nunc  his  whole  fortune  to  his  future  wife?" 
said  Mathias.  "It  would  be  more  honest  than  what 
you  now  propose.  I  will  not  allow  the  ruin  of  the 
Comte  de  Manerville  to  take  place  under  my  very 
eyes  —  " 

He  made  a  step  as  if  to  address  his  client,  who  was 
silent  throughout  this  scene  as  if  dazed  by  it;  but  he 
turned  and  said,  addressing  Madame  Evangelista :  — 

"Do  not  suppose,  madame,  that  I  think  you  a  party 
to  these  ideas  of  my  brother  notary.  I  consider  you 
an  honest  woman  and  a  lady  who  knows  nothing  of 
business." 

"Thank  you,  brother  notary,"  said  Solonet. 

"You  know  that  there  can  be  no  offence  between 
you  and  me,"  replied  Mathias.  "Madame,"  he  added, 
"you  ought  to  know  the  result  of  this  proposed  arrange- 
ment. You  are  still  young  and  beautiful  enough  to 
marry   again —     Ah!    madame,"  said   the   old   man, 


64  The  Marriage   Contract. 

noting  her  gesture,  "who  can  answer  for  themselves 
on  that  point?  " 

"I  did  not  suppose,  monsieur,"  said  Madame  Evan- 
gelista,  "  that,  after  remaining  a  widow  for  the  seven 
best  years  of  my  life,  and  refusing  the  most  brilliant 
offers  for  my  daughter's  sake,  I  should  be  suspected 
of  such  a  piece  of  folly  as  marrying  again  at  thirty- 
nine  years  of  age.  If  we  were  not  talking  business  I 
should  regard  your  suggestion  as  an  impertinence." 

"Would  it  not  be  more  impertinent  if  I  suggested 
that  you  could  not  marry  again  ?  " 

"Can  and  will  are  separate  terms,"  remarked 
Solonet,  gallantly." 

"Well,"  resumed  Mattre  Mathias,  "we  will  say 
nothing  of  your  marriage.  You  may,  and  we  all 
desire  it,  live  for  forty-five  years  to  come.  Now,  if 
you  keep  for  yourself  the  life-interest  in  your  daugh- 
ter's patrimony,  your  children  are  laid  on  the  shelf  for 
the  best  years  of  their  lives." 

"What  does  that  mean?  "  said  the  widow.  "I  don't 
understand  being  laid  on  a  shelf. 

Solonet,  the  man  of  elegance  and  good  taste,  began 
to  laugh. 

"I  '11  translate  it  for  you,"  said  Mathias.  "If  your 
children  are  wise  they  will  think  of  the  future.  To 
think  of  the  future  means  laying  by  half  -our  income, 
provided  we  have  only  two  children,  to  whom  we  are 
bound  to  give  a  fine  education  and  a  handsome  dowry. 
Your  daughter  and  son-in-law  will,  therefore,  be 
reduced  to  live  on  twenty  thousand  francs  a  year, 
though  each  has  spent  fifty  thousand  while  still  un- 
married.    But  that  is  nothing.     The  law  obliges  my 


The  Marriage  Contract.  65 

client  to  account,  hereafter,  to  his  children  for  the 
eleven  hundred  and  fifty-six  thousand  francs  of  their 
mother's  patrimony;  yet  he  may  not  have  received 
them  if  his  wife  should  die  and  madame  should  sur- 
vive her,  which  may  very  well  happen.  To  sign  such 
a  contract  is  to  fling  one's  self  into  the  river,  bound 
hand  and  foot.  You  wish  to  make  your  daughter 
happy,  do  you  not?  If  she  loves  her  husband,  a  fact 
which  notaries  never  doubt,  she  will  share  his  troubles. 
Madame,  I  see  enough  in  this  scheme  to  make  her  die 
of  grief  and  anxiety;  you  are  consigning  her  to  pov- 
erty. Yes,  madame,  poverty;  to  persons  accustomed 
to  the  use  of  one  hundred  thousand  francs  a  year, 
twenty  thousand  is  poverty.  Moreover,  if  Monsieur 
le  comte,  out  of  love  for  his  wife,  were  guilty  of 
extravagance,  she  could  ruin  him  by  exercising  her 
rights  when  misfortunes  overtook  him.  I  plead  now 
for  you,  for  them,  for  their  children,  for  every  one." 

4 'The  old  fellow  makes  a  lot  of  smoke  with  his  can- 
non," thought  Maitre  Solonet,  giving  his  client  a  look, 
which  meant,  "Keep  on!  " 

"There  is  one  way  of  combining  all  interests," 
replied  Madame  Evangelista,  calmly.  "I  can  reserve 
to  myself  only  the  necessary  cost  of  living  in  a  con- 
vent, and  my  children  can  have  my  property  at  once. 
I  can  renounce  the  world,  if  such  anticipated  death 
conduces  to  the  welfare  of  my  daughter." 

"Madame,"  said  the  old  notary,  "let  us  take  time 
to  consider  and  weigh,  deliberately,  the  course  we  had 
best  pursue  to  conciliate  all  interests." 

"  Good  heavens!  monsieur,"  cried  Madame  Evan- 
gelista,  who   saw   defeat   in  delay,   "everything   has 

5 


66  The  Marriage    Contract. 

already  been  considered  and  weighed.  I  was  ignorant 
of  what  the  process  of  marriage  is  in  France ;  I  am  a 
Spaniard  and  a  Creole,  I  did  not  know  that  in  order 
to  marry  my  daughter  it  was  necessary  to  reckon  up 
the  days  which  God  may  still  grant  me;  that  my 
child  would  suffer  because  I  live;  that  I  do  harm 
by  living,  and  by  having  lived!  When  my  husband 
married  me  I  had  nothing  but  my  name  and  my 
person.  My  name  alone  was  a  fortune  to  him,  which 
dwarfed  his  own.  What  wealth  can  equal  that  of  a 
great  name?  My  dowry  was  beauty,  virtue,  happiness, 
birth,  education.  Can  money  give  those  treasures? 
If  Natalie's  father  could  overhear  this  conversation, 
his  generous  soul  would  be  wounded  forever,  and  his 
happiness  in  paradise  destroyed.  I  dissipated,  fool- 
ishly, perhaps,  a  few  of  his  millions  without  a  quiver 
ever  coming  to  his  eyelids.  Since  his  death,  I  have 
grown  economical  and  orderly  in  comparison  with 
the  life  he  encouraged  me  to  lead  —  Come,  let  us 
break  this  thing  off!  Monsieur  de  Manerville  is  so 
disappointed  that  I  —  " 

No  descriptive  language  can  express  the  confusion 
and  shock  which  the  words,  "break  off,"  introduced 
into  the  conversation.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  these 
four  apparently  well-bred  persons  all  talked  at  once. 

"In  Spain  people  marry  in  the  Spanish  fashion,  or 
as  they  please;  but  in  France  they  marry  according 
to  French  law,  sensibly,  and  as  best  they  can,"  said 
Mathias. 

"Ah,  madame,"  cried  Paul,  coming  out  of  his 
stupefaction,  "you  mistake  my  feelings." 

"This    is    not   a   matter  of   feeling,"  said  the  old 


ti- 
ll 


The  Marriage  Contract.  67 

notary,  trying  to  stop  his  client  from  concessions. 
"We  are  concerned  now  with  the  interests  and  welfare 
of  three  generations.  Have  ive  wasted  the  missing 
millions?  We  are  simply  endeavoring  to  solve  dilli- 
culties  of  which  we  are  wholly  guiltless." 
Marry  us,  and  don't  haggle,"  said  Solonet. 
Haggle!  do  you  call  it  haggling  to  defend  the 
interests  of  father  and  mother  and  children?"  said 
Mathias. 

"Yes,"  said  Paul,  continuing  his  remarks  to 
Madame  Evangel ista,  "I  deplore  the  extravagance  of 
my  youth,  which  does  not  permit  me  to  stop  this  dis- 
cussion, as  you  deplore  your  ignorance  of  business 
and  your  involuntary  wastefulness.  God  is  my  wit- 
ness that  I  am  not  thinking,  at  this  moment,  of  my- 
self. A  simple  life  at  Lanstrac  does  not  alarm  me; 
but  how  can  I  ask  Mademoiselle  Natalie  to  renounce 
her  tastes,  her  habits?  Her  very  existence  would  be 
changed." 

"Where  did  fivangelista  get  his  millions?"  said 
the  widow. 

"Monsieur  Evangelista  was  in  business,"  replied 
the  old  notary;  "he  played  in  the  great  game  of 
commerce;  he  despatched  ships  and  made  enormous 
sums;  we  are  simply  a  landowner,  whose  capital  is 
invested,  whose  income  is  fixed." 

"There  is  still  a  way  to  harmonize  all  interests," 
said  Solonet,  uttering  this  sentence  in  a  high  falsetto 
tone,  which  silenced  the  other  three  and  drew  their 
eyes  and  their  attention   upon  himself. 

This  young  man  was  not  unlike  a  skilful  coachman 
who  holds  the  reins  of  four  horses,  and  amuses  himself 


68  The  Marriage   Contract, 

by  first  exciting  his  animals  and  then  subduing  them. 
He  had  let  loose  these  passions,  and  then,  in  turn,  he 
calmed  them,  making  Paul,  whose  life  and  happiness 
were  in  the  balance,  sweat  in  his  harness,  as  well  as 
his  own  client,  who  could  not  clearly  see  her  way 
through  this  involved  discussion. 

"Madame  Evangelista,"  he  continued,  after  a  slight 
pause,  "can  resign  her  investment  in  the  Five-per- 
cents  at  once,  and  she  can  sell  this  house.  I  can  get 
three  hundred  thousand  for  it  by  cutting  the  land  into 
small  lots.  Out  of  that  sum  she  can  give  you  one 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs.  In  this  way  she 
pays  down  nine  hundred  thousand  of  her  daughter's 
patrimony,  immediately.  That,  to  be  sure,  is  not  all 
that  she  owes  her  daughter,  but  where  will  you  find,  in 
France,  a  better  dowry  ?  " 

"Very  good,"  said  Maftre  Mathias;  "but  what, 
then,  becomes  of  madame?" 

At  this  question,  which  appeared  to  imply  consent, 
Solonet  said,  softly,  to  himself,  "Well  done,  old  fox! 
I  've  caught  you!  " 

"Madame,"  he  replied,  aloud,  "will  keep  the  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  francs  remaining  from  the 
sale  of  the  house.  This  sum,  added  to  the  value  of 
her  furniture,  can  be  invested  in  an  annuity  which  will 
give  her  twenty  thousand  francs  a  year.  Monsieur  le 
comte  can  arrange  to  provide  a  residence  for  her  under 
his  roof.  Lanstrac  is  a  large  house.  You  have  also 
a  house  in  Paris,"  he  went  on,  addressing  himself  to 
Paul.  "Madame  can,  therefore,  live  with  you  where- 
ever  you  are.  A  widow  with  twenty  thousand  francs 
a  year,  and  no  household  to  maintain,  is  richer  than 


The  Marriage   Contract.  69 

madame  was  when  she  possessed  her  whole  fortune. 
Madame  Evangelista  has  only  this  one  daughter; 
Monsieur  le  comte  is  without  relations;  it  will  be 
many  years  before  your  heirs  attain  their  majority; 
no  conflict  of  interests  is,  therefore,  to  be  feared.  A 
mother-in-law  and  a  son-in-law  placed  in  such  rela- 
tions will  form  a  household  of  united  interests. 
Madame  Evangelista  can  make  up  for  the  remaining 
deficit  by  paying  a  certain  sum  for  her  support  from 
her  annuity,  which  will  ease  your  way.  We  know  that 
madame  is  too  generous  and  too  large-minded  to  be 
willing  to  be  a  burden  on  her  children.  In  this  way 
you  can  make  one  household,  united  and  happy,  and 
be  able  to  spend,  in  your  own  right,  one  hundred 
thousand  francs  a  year.  Is  not  that  sum  sufficient, 
Monsieur  le  comte,  to  enjoy,  in  all  countries,  the 
luxuries  of  life,  and  to  satisfy  all  your  wants  and 
caprices?  Believe  me,  a  young  couple  often  feel  the 
need  of  a  third  member  of  the  household ;  and,  I  ask 
you,  what  third  member  could  be  so  desirable  as  a 
good  mother  ?  " 

"A  little  paradise!  "  exclaimed  the  old  notary. 

Shocked  to  see  his  client's  joy  at  this  proposal, 
Mathias  sat  down  on  an  ottoman,  his  head  in  his 
hands,  plunged  in  reflections  that  were  evidently  pain- 
ful. He  knew  well  the  involved  phraseology  in  which 
notaries  and  lawyers  wrap  up,  intentionally,  malicious 
schemes,  and  he  was  not  the  man  to  be  taken  in  by  it. 
He  now  began,  furtively,  to  watch  his  brother  notary 
and  Madame  Evangelista  as  they  conversed  with  Paul, 
endeavoring  to  detect  some  clew  to  the  deep-laid  plot 
which  was  beginning  to  appear  upon  the  surface. 


70  The  Marriage   Contract 


kf 


'Monsieur,"  said  Paul  to  Solonet,  "I  thank  you  for 
the  pains  you  take  to  conciliate  our  interests.  This 
arrangement  will  solve  all  difficulties  far  more  happily 
than  I  expected  —  if,"  he  added,  turning  to  Madame 
Evangelista,  "it  is  agreeable  to  you,  madame;  for  I 
could  not  desire  anything  that  did  not  equally  please 
you." 

"I?"  she  said;  "all  that  makes  the  happiness  of 
my  children  is  joy  to  me.  Do  not  consider  me  in  any 
way." 

"That  would  not  be  right,"  said  Paul,  eagerly.  "If 
your  future  is  not  honorably  provided  for,  Natalie 
and  I  would  suffer  more  than  you  would  suffer  for 
yourself. " 

"Don't  be  uneasy,  Monsieur  le  comte,"  interposed 
Solonet. 

"Ah!"  thought  old  Mathias,  "they'll  make  him 
kiss  the  rod  before  .they  scourge  him." 

"You  may  feel  quite  satisfied,"  continued  Solonet. 
"There  are  s6  many  enterprises  going  on  in  Bordeaux 
at  this  moment  that  investments  for  annuities  can  be 
negotiated  on  very  advantageous  terms.  After  deduct- 
ing from  the  proceeds  of  the  house  and  furniture  the 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs  we  owe  you,  I  think 
I  can  guarantee  to  madame  that  two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  will  remain  to  her.  I  take  upon  myself  to 
invest  that  sum  in  a  first  mortgage  on  property  worth 
a  million,  and  to  obtain  ten  per  cent  for  it,  — twenty- 
five  thousand  francs  a  year.  Consequently,  we  are 
marrying  on  nearly  equal  fortunes.  In  fact,  against 
your  forty-six  thousand  francs  a  year,  Mademoiselle 
Natalie  brings  you  forty  thousand  a  year  in  the  Five- 


The  Marriage  Contract.  71 

per-cents,  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  in  a 
round  sum,  which  gives,  in  all,  forty-seven  thousand 
francs  a  year." 

"That  is  evident,"  said  Paul. 

As  he  ended  his  speech,  Solonet  had  cast  a  sidelong 
glance  at  his  client,  intercepted  by  Mathias,  which 
meant:  "Bring  up  your  reserves." 

"But,"  exclaimed  Madame  EvangeUista,  in  tones  of 
joy  that  did  not  seem  to  be  feigned,  "I  can  give 
Natalie  my  diamonds;  they  are  worth,  at  least,  a 
hundred  thousand  francs." 

"We  can  have  them  appraised,"  said  the  notary." 
"This  will  change  the  whole  face  of  things.  Madame 
can  then  keep  the  proceeds  of  her  house,  all  but  fifty 
thousand  francs.  Nothing  will  prevent  Monsieur  le 
comte  from  giving  us  a  receipt  in  due  form,  as  having 
received,  in  full,  Mademoiselle  Natalie's  inheritance 
from  her  father;  this  will  close,  of  course,  the  guard- 
ianship account.  If  madame,  with  Spanish  gener- 
osity, robs  herself  in  this  way  to  fulfil  her  obligations, 
the  least  that  her  children  can  do  is  to  give  her  a  full 
receipt." 

"Nothing  could  be  more  just  than  that,"  said  Paul. 
"I  am  simply  overwhelmed  by  these  generous  pro- 
posals." 

"My  daughter  is  another  myself,"  said  Madame 
Evangelista,  softly. 

Maitre  Mathias  detected  a  look  of  joy  on  her  face 
when  she  saw  that  the  difficulties  were  being  removed : 
that  joy,  and  the  previous  forgetfulness  of  the  dia- 
monds which  were  now  brought  forward  like  fresh 
troops,  confirmed  his  suspicions. 


72  The  Marriage    Contract. 

"The  scene  has  been  prepared  between  them  as 
gamblers  prepare  the  cards  to  ruin  a  pigeon,"  thought 
the  old  notary.  "Is  this  poor  boy,  whom  I  saw  born, 
doomed  to  be  plucked  alive  by  that  woman,  roasted 
by  his  very  love,  and  devoured  by  his  wife?  I,  who 
have  nursed  these  fine  estates  for  years  with  such  care, 
am  I  to  see  them  ruined  in  a  single  night?  Three 
million  and  a  half  to  be  hypothecated  for  eleven  hun- 
dred thousand  francs  these  women  will  force  him  to 
squander !  " 

Discovering  thus  in  the  soul  of  the  elder  woman 
intentions  which,  without  involving  crime,  theft, 
swindling,  or  any  actually  evil  or  blameworthy  action, 
nevertheless  belonged  to  all  those  criminalities  in 
embryo,  Maitre  Mathias  felt  neither  sorrow  nor  gen- 
erous indignation.  He  was  not  the  Misanthrope;  he 
was  an  old  notary,  accustomed  in  his  business  to  the 
shrewd  calculations  of  worldly  people,  to  those  clever 
bits  of  treachery  which  do  more  fatal  injury  than  open 
murder  on  the  high-road  committed  by  some  poor  devil, 
who  is  guillotined  in  consequence.  To  the  upper 
classes  of  society  these  passages  in  life,  these  diplo- 
matic meetings  and  discussions  are  like  the  necessary 
cesspools  where  the  filth  of  life  is  thrown.  Full  of 
pity  for  his  client,  Mathias  cast  a  foreseeing  eye  into 
the  future  and  saw  nothing  good. 

"We  '11  take  the  field  with  the  same  weapons," 
thought  he,  "and  beat  them." 

At  this  moment,  Paul,  Solonet  and  Madame  Evange- 
lista,  becoming  embarrassed  by  the  old  man's  silence, 
felt  that  the  approval  of  that  censor  was  necessary  to 
carry  out  the  transaction,  and  all  three  turned  to  him 
simultaneously. 


The  Marriage   Contract  73 

"Well,   my  dear  Monsieur   Mathias,   what  do   you 
think  of  it?"  said  Paul. 

"This  is  what  I  think,"  said  the  conscientious  and 
uncompromising  notary.  "You  are  not  rich  enough 
to  commit  such  regal  folly.  The  estate  of  Lanstrac,  if 
estimated  at  three  per  cent  on  its  rentals,  represents, 
with  its  furniture,  one  million;  the  farms  of  Grassol 
and  Guadet  and  your  vineyard  of  Belle-Rose  are  worth 
another  million;  your  two  houses  in  Bordeaux  and 
Paris,  with  their  furniture,  a  third  million.  Against 
these  three  millions,  yielding  forty-seven  thousand 
francs  a  year,  Mademoiselle  Natalie  brings  eight 
hundred  thousand  francs  in  the  Five-per-cents,  the 
diamonds  (supposing  them  to  be  worth  a  hundred 
thousand  francs,  which  is  still  problematical)  and  fifty 
thousand  francs  in  money;  in  all,  one  million  and 
fifty  thousand  francs.  In  presence  of  such  facts  my 
brother  notary  tells  you  boastfully  that  we  are  marry- 
ing equal  fortunes!  He  expects  us  to  encumber  our- 
selves with  a  debt  of  eleven  hundred  and  fifty-six 
thousand  francs  to  our  children  by  acknowledging  the 
receipt  of  our  wife's  patrimony,  when  we  have  actually 
received  but  little  more  than  a  doubtful  million.  You 
are  listening  to  such  stuff  with  the  rapture  of  a  lover, 
and  you  think  that  old  Mathias,  who  is  not  in  love, 
can  forget  arithmetic,  and  will  not  point  out  the 
difference  between  landed  estate,  the  actual  value  of 
which  is  enormous  and  constantly  increasing,  and  the 
revenues  of  personal  property,  the  capital  of  which  is 
subject  to  fluctuations  and  diminishment  of  income. 
I  am  old  enough  to  have  learned  that  money  dwindles 
and  land  augments.     You  have  called  me  in,  Monsieur 


74  The  Marriage   Contract. 

le  comte,  to  stipulate  for  your  interests ;  either  let  me 
defend  those  interests,  or  dismiss  me." 

"If  monsieur  is  seeking  a  fortune  equal  in  capital 
to  his  own,"  said  Solonet,  "we  certainly  cannot  give 
it  to  him.  We  do  not  possess  three  millions  and  a 
half;  nothing  can  be  more  evident.  While  you  can 
boast  of  your  three  overwhelming  millions,  we  can 
only  produce  our  one  poor  million,  —  a  mere  nothing 
in  your  eyes,  though  three  times  the  dowry  of  an 
archduchess  of  Austria.  Bonaparte  received  only 
two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs  with  Maria- 
Louisa." 

"Maria-Louisa  was  the  ruin  of  Bonaparte,"  muttered 
Mathias. 

Natalie's  mother  caught  the  words. 

"If  my  sacrifices  are  worth  nothing,"  she  cried,  "I 
do  not  choose  to  continue  such  a  discussion ;  I  trust 
to  the  discretion  of  Monsieur  le  comte,  and  I  renounce 
the  honor  of  his  hand  for  my  daughter." 

According  to  the  strategy  marked  out  by  the  younger 
notary,  this  battle  of  contending  interests  had  now 
reached  the  point  where  victory  was  certain  for 
Madame  Evangelista.  The  mother-in-law  had  opened 
her  heart,  delivered  up  her  property,  and  was  there- 
fore practically  released  as  her  daughter's  guardian. 
The  future  husband,  under  pain  of  ignoring  the  laws 
of  generous  propriety  and  being  false  to  love,  ought 
now  to  accept  these  conditions  previously  planned,  and 
cleverly  led  up  to  by  Solonet  and  Madame  Evangelista. 
Like  the  hands  of  a  clock  turned  by  mechanism,  Paul 
came  faithfully  up  to  time. 

"Madame!  "  he  exclaimed,  "is  it  possible  you  can 
think  of  breaking  off  the  marriage?  " 


The  Marriage   Contract.  75 

"Monsieur,"  she  replied,  "to  whom  am  I  account- 
able? To  my  daughter.  When  she  is  twenty-one  years 
of  age  she  will  receive  my  guardianship  account  and 
release  me.  She  will  then  possess  a  million,  and  can, 
if  she  likes,  choose  her  husband  among  the  sons  of 
the  peers  of  France.  She  is  a  daughter  of  the  Casa- 
Reale." 

"Madame  is  right,"  remarked  Solonet.  "Why 
should  she  be  more  hardly  pushed  to-day  than  she 
will  be  fourteen  months  hence?  You  ought  not  to 
deprive  her  of  the  benefits  of  her  maternity." 

"Mathias!  "  cried  Paul,  in  deep  distress,  "there  are 
two  sorts  of  ruin,  and  you  are  bringing  one  upon  me 
at  this  moment." 

He  made  a  step  toward  the  old  notary,  no  doubt 
intending  to  tell  him  that  the  contract  must  be  drawn 
at  once.  But  Mathias  stopped  that  disaster  with  a 
glance  which  said,  distinctly,  "Wait!  "  He  saw  the 
tears  in  Paul's  eyes, —  tears  drawn  from  an  honorable 
man  by  the  shame  of  this  discussion  as  much  as  by  the 
peremptory  speech  of  Madame  Evangelista,  threaten- 
ing rupture,  —  and  the  old  man  stanched  them  with  a 
gesture  like  that  of  Archimedes  when  he  cried, 
"  Eureka!"  The  words  j^eer  of  France  had  been  to 
him  like  a  torch  in  a  dark  crypt. 

Natalie  appeared  at  this  moment,  dazzling  as  the 
dawn,  saying,  with  infantine  look  and  manner,  "Am 
I  in  the  way?  " 

"Singularly  so,  my  child,"  answered  her  mother,  in 
a  bitter  tone. 

"Come  in,  dear  Natalie,"  said  Paul,  taking  her 
hand  and  leading  her  to  a  chair  near  the  fireplace. 
"All  is  settled." 


76  The  Marriage    Contract, 

He  felt  if  impossible  to  endure  the  overthrow  of 
their  mutual  hopes. 

"Yes,  all  can  be  settled,"  said  Mathias,  hastily 
interposing. 

Like  a  general  who,  in  a  moment,  upsets  the  plans 
skilfully  laid  and  prepared  by  the  enemy,  the  old 
notary,  enlightened  by  that  genius  which  presides  over 
notaries,  saw  an -idea,  capable  of  saving  the  future  of 
Paul  and  his  children,  unfolding  itself  in  legal  form 
before  his  eyes. 

Maitre  Solonet,  who  perceived  no  other  way  out  of 
these  irreconcilable  difficulties  than  the  resolution  with 
which  Paul's  love  inspired  him,  and  to  which  this 
conflict  of  feelings  and  thwarted  interests  had  brought 
him,  was  extremely  surprised  at  the  sudden  exclam- 
ation of  his  brother-notary.  Curious  to  know  the 
remedy  that  Mathias  had  found  in  a  state  of  things 
which  had  seemed  to  him  beyond  all  other  relief,  he 
said,  addressing  the  old  man :  — 

"What  is  it  you  propose?  " 

"Natalie,  my  dear  child,  leave  us,"  said  Madame 
Evangelista. 

"Mademoiselle  is  not  in  the  way,"  replied  Mathias, 
smiling.  "I  am  going  to  speak  in  her  interests  as  well 
as  in  those  of  Monsieur  le  comte." 

Silence  reigned  for  a  moment,  during  which  time 
everybody  present,  oppressed  with  anxiety,  awaited  the 
allocution  of  the  venerable  notary  with  unspeakable 
curiosity. 

"In  these  days,"  continued  Maitre  Mathias,  after  a 
pause,  "the  profession  of  notary  has  changed  from 
what  it  was.     Political  revolutions  now  exert  an  influ- 


The  Marriage   Contract.  77 

ence  over  the  prospects  of  families,  which  never  hap- 
pened in  former  times.  In  those  days  existences  were 
clearly  defined;  so  were  rank  and  position  —  " 

"We  are  not  here  for  a  lecture  on  political  economy, 
but  to  draw  up  a  marriage  contract,"  said  Solonet, 
interrupting  the  old  man,   impatiently. 

"I  beg  you  to  allow  me  to  speak  in  my  turn  as  I  see 
fit,"  replied  the  other. 

Solonet  turned  away  and  sat  down  on  the  ottoman, 
saying,  in  a  low  voice,  to  Madame  Evangelista:  — 

"You  will  now  hear  what  we  call  in  the  profession 
balderdash." 

"Notaries  are  therefore  compelled  to  follow  the 
course  of  political  events,  which  are  now  intimately 
connected  with  private  interests.  Here  is  an  example : 
formerly  noble  families  owned  fortunes  that  were 
never  shaken,  but  which  the  laws,  promulgated  by  the 
Revolution,  destroyed,  and  the  present  system  tends 
to  reconstruct,"  resumed  the  old  notary,  yielding  to 
the  loquacity  of  the  tabeUionarls  boa-constrictor  (boa- 
notary).  "Monsieur  le  comte  by  his  name,  his  talents, 
and  his  fortune  is  called  upon  to  sit  some  day  in  the 
elective  Chamber.  Perhaps  his  destiny  will  take  him 
to  the  hereditary  Chamber,  for  we  know  that  he  has 
talent  and  means  enough  to  fulfil  that  expectation. 
Do  you  not  agree  with  me,  madame?"  he  added, 
turning  to  the  widow. 

"You  anticipate  my  dearest  hope,"  she  replied. 
"Monsieur  de  Manerville  must  be  a  peer  of  France, 
or  I  shall  die  of  mortification." 

"Therefore  all  that  leads  to  that  end  —  "  continued 
Mathias  with  a  cordial  gesture  to  the  astute  mother- 
in-law. 


78  The  Marriage    Contract. 

" — will  promote  my  eager  desire,"  she  replied. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Mathias,  "is  not  this  marriage 
the  proper  occasion  on  which  to  entail  the  estate  and 
create  the  family?  Such  a  course  would,  undoubtedly, 
militate  in  the  mind  of  the  present  government  in 
favor  of  the  nomination  of  my  client  whenever  a  batch 
of  appointments  is  sent  in.  Monsieur  le  comte  can 
very  well  afford  to  devote  the  estate  of  Lanstrac 
(which  is  worth  a  million)  to  this  purpose.  I  do  not 
ask  that  mademoiselle  should  contribute  an  equal  sum ; 
that  would  not  be  just.  But  we  cac  surely  apply  eight 
hundred  thousand  of  her  patrimony  to  this  object. 
There  are  two  domains  adjoining  Lanstrac  now  to  be 
sold,  which  can  be  purchased  for  that  sum,  which  will 
return  in  rentals  four  and  a  half  per  cent.  The  house 
in  Paris  should  be  included  in  the  entail.  The  sur- 
plus of  the  two  fortunes,  if  judiciously  managed,  will 
amply  suffice  for  the  fortunes  of  the  younger  children. 
If  the  contracting  parties  will  agree  to  this  arrange- 
ment, Monsieur  ought  certainly  to  accept  your  guard- 
ianship account  with  its  deficiency.  I  consent  to 
that." 

"  Questa  coda  non  e  di  questo  gatto  (That  tail  does  n't 
belong  to  that  cat),"  murmured  Madame  Evangelista, 
appealing  to  Solonet. 

"There  's  a  snake  in  the  grass  somewhere," 
answered  Solonet,  in  a  low  voice,  replying  to  the 
Italian  proverb  with  a  French  one. 

"Why  do  you  make  this  fuss?"  asked  Paul,  leading 
Mathias  into  the  adjoining  salon. 

"To  save  you  from  being  ruined,"  replied  the  old 
notary,  in  a  whisper.     "You  are  determined  to  marry 


The  Marriage   Contract.  79 

a  girl  and  her  mother  who  have  already  squandered 
two  millions  in  seven  years;  you  are  pledging  your- 
self to  a  debt  of  eleven  hundred  thousand  francs  to 
your  children,  to  whom  you  will  have  to  account  for 
the  fortune  you  are  acknowledging  to  have  received 
with  their  mother.  You  risk  having  your  own  fortune 
squandered  in  five  years,  and  to  be  left  as  naked  as 
Saint-John  himself,  besides  being  a  debtor  to  your 
wife  and  children  for  enormous  sums.  If  you  are 
determined  to  put  your  life  in  that  boat,  Monsieur  le 
comte,  of  course  you  can  do  as  you  choose;  but  at 
least  let  me,  your  old  friend,  try  to  save  the  house  of 
Manerville." 

"  How  is  this  scheme  going  to  save  it?"  asked  Paul. 

"Monsieur  le  comte,  you  are  in  love  —  " 

"Yes." 

"A  lover  is  about  as  discreet  as  a  cannon-ball; 
therefore,  I  shall  not  explain.  If  you  repeated  what 
I  should  say,  your  marriage  would  probably  be  broken 
off.  I  protect  your  love  by  my  silence.  Have  you 
confidence  in  my  devotion?" 

"A  fine  question!  " 

"Well,  then,  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that  Madame 
Evangelista,  her  notary,  and  her  daughter,  are  tricking 
us  through  thick  and  thin ;  they  are  more  than  clever. 
Ttidieu  !  what  a  sly  game !  " 

"Not  Natalie?  "  cried  Paul. 

"I  sha'n't  put  my  fingers  between  the  bark  and  the 
tree,"  said  the  old  man.  "You  want  her,  take  her! 
But  I  wish  you  were  well  out  of  this  marriage,  if  it 
could  be  done  without  the  least  wrong-doing  on  your 
part." 


80  The  Marriage   Contract. 

'Why  do  you  wish  it?  " 

u Because  that  girl  will  spend  the  mines  of  Peru. 
Besides,  see  how  she  rides  a  horse,  —  like  the  groom 
of  a  circus;  she  is  half  emancipated  already.  Such 
girls  make  bad  wives. " 

Paul  pressed  the  old  man's  hand,  saying,  with  a 
confident  air  of  self-conceit :  — 

"Don't  be  uneasy  as  to  that!  But  now,  at  this 
moment,  what  am  I  to  do  ?  " 

"Hold  firm  to  my  conditions.  They  will  consent, 
for  no  one's  apparent  interest  is  injured.  Madame 
^Ivangelista  is  very  anxious  to  marry  her  daughter;  I 
see  that  in  her  little  game  —     Beware  of  her !  " 

Paul  returned  to  the  salon,  where  he  found  his  future 
mother-in-law  conversing  in  a  low  tone  with  Solonet, 
just  as  he  himself  had  been  conversing  with  Mathias. 
Natalie,  kept  outside  of  these  mysterious  conferences, 
was  playing  with  a  screen.  Embarrassed  by  her  posi- 
tion, she  was  thinking  to  herself:  "How  odd  it  is  that 
they  tell  me  nothing  of  my  own  affairs." 

The  younger  notary  had  seized,  in  the  main,  the 
future  effect  of  the  new  proposal,  based,  as  it  was,  on 
the  self-love  of  both  parties,  into  which  his  client 
had  fallen  headlong.  Now,  while  Mathias  was  more 
than  a  mere  notary,  Solonet  was  still  a  young  man, 
and  brought  into  his  business  the  vanity  of  youth. 
It  often  happens  that  personal  conceit  makes  a  man 
forgetful  of  the  interests  of  his  client.  In  this 
case,  Maitre  Solonet,  who  would  not  suffer  the  widow 
to  think  that  Nestor  had  vanquished  Achilles,  advised 
her  to  conclude  the  marriage  on  the  terms  pro- 
posed.    Little    he    cared    for   the    future    working    of 


The  Marriage    Contract.  81 

the  marriage  contract;  to  him,  the  conditions  of 
victory  were :  Madame  Evangelista  released  from  her 
obligations  as  guardian,  her  future  secured,  and 
Natalie  married. 

44  Bordeaux  shall  know  that  you  have  ceded  eleven 
hundred  thousand  francs  to  your  daughter,  and  that 
you  still  have  twenty-five  thousand  francs  a  year  left," 
whispered  Solonet  to  his  client.  44For  my  part,  I  did 
not  expect  to  obtain  such  a  fine  result." 

44 But,"  she  said,  4' explain  to  me  why  the  creation  of 
this  entail  should  have  calmed  the  storm  at  once." 

"It  relieves  their  distrust  of  you  and  of  your 
daughter.  An  entail  is  unchangeable;  neither  hus- 
band nor  wife  can  touch  that  capital." 

44Then  this  arrangement  is  positively  insulting! ' 

44 No;  we  call  it  simply  precaution.  The  old  fel- 
low has  caught  you  in  a  net.  If  you  refuse  to  consent 
to  the  entail,  he  can  reply:  'Then  your  object  is  to 
squander  the  fortune  of  my  client,  who,  by  the  crea- 
tion of  this  entail,  is  protected  from  all  such  injury 
as  securely  as  if  the  marriage  took  place  under  the 
regime  dotal.'  " 

Solonet  quieted  his  own  scruples  by  reflecting: 
44  After  all,  these  stipulations  will  take  effect  only  in 
the  future,  by  which  time  Madame  Evangelista  will 
be  dead  and  buried." 

Madame  Evangelista  contented  herself,  for  the  pres- 
ent, with  these  explanations,  having  full  confidence 
in  Solonet.  She  was  wholly  ignorant  of  law;  consid- 
ering her  daughter  as  good  as  married,  she  thought 
she  had  gained  her  end,  and  was  filled  with  the  joy  of 
success.     Thus,  as  Mathias  had  shrewdly  calculated, 

6 


82  The  Marriage    Contract. 

neither  Solonet  nor  Madame  ^vangelista  understood 
as  yet,  to  its  full  extent,  this  scheme  which  he  had 
based  on  reasons  that  were  undeniable. 

"Well,  Monsieur  Mathias,"  said  the  widow,  "all  is 
for  the  best,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"Madame,  if  you  and  Monsieur  le  comte  consent 
to  this  arrangement  you  ought  to  exchange  pledges. 
It  is  fully  understood,  I  suppose,"  he  continued,  look- 
ing from  one  to  the  other,  "that  the  marriage  will  only 
take  place  on  condition  of  creating  an  entail'  upon 
the  estate  of  Lanstrac  and  the  house  in  the  rue  de  la 
Pepiniere,  together  with  eight  hundred  thousand  francs 
in  money  brought  by  the  future  wife,  the  said  sum 
to  be  invested  in  landed  property?  Pardon  me  the 
repetition,  madame ;  but  a  positive  and  solemn  engage- 
ment becomes  absolutely  necessary.  The  creation 
of  an  entail  requires  formalities,  application  to  the 
chancellor,  a  royal  ordinance,  and  we  ought  at  once 
to  conclude  the  purchase  of  the  new  estate  in  order 
that  the  property  be  included  in  the  royal  ordinance 
by  virtue  of  which  it  becomes  inalienable.  In  many 
families  this  would  be  reduced  to  writing,  but  on  this 
occasion  I  think  a  simple  consent  will  suffice.  Do 
you  consent? " 

"Yes,"  replied  Madame  Evangelista. 

"Yes,"  said  Paul. 

"And  I?  "  asked  Natalie,  laughing. 
You  are  a  minor,  mademoiselle,"  replied  Solonet; 

don't  complain  of  that." 

It  was  then  agreed  that  Maitre  Mathias  should  draw 
up  the  contract,  Maitre  Solonet  the  guardianship 
account  and  release,  and  that  both  documents  should 


The  Marriage  Contract.  83 

be  signed,  as  the  law  requires  some  days  before  the 
celebration  of  the  marriage.  After  a  few  polite  salu- 
tations the  notaries  withdrew. 

"It  rains,  Mathias;  shall  I  take  you  home?"  said 
Solonet.     "My  cabriolet  is  here." 

"My  carriage  is  here,  too,"  said  Paul,  manifesting 
an  intention  to  accompany  the  old  man. 

"I  won't  rob  you  of  a  moment's  pleasure,"  said 
Mathias.     "I  accept  my  friend  Solonet's  offer." 

"Well,"  said  Achilles  to  Nestor,  as  the  cabriolet 
rolled  away,  "you  have  been  truly  patriarchal  to-night. 
The  fact  is,  those  young  people  would  certainly  have 
ruined  themselves." 

"I  felt  anxious  about  their  future, "replied  Mathias, 
keeping  silence  as  to  the  real  motives  of  his  propo- 
sition. 

At  this  moment  the  two  notaries  were  like  a  pair 
of  actors  arm  in  arm  behind  the  stage  on  which  they 
have  played  a  scene  of  hatred  and  provocation. 

"But,"  said  Solonet,  thinking  of  his  rights  as 
notary,  "isn't  it  my  place  to  buy  that  land  you 
mentioned?     The  money  is  part  of  our  dowry." 

"How  can  you  put  property  bought  in  the  name  of 
Mademoiselle  ^vangelista  into  the  creation  of  an 
entail  by  the  Comte  de  Manerville?  "  replied  Mathias. 

"We  shall  have  to  ask  the  chancellor  about  that," 
said  Solonet. 

"But  I  am  the  notary  of  the  seller  as  well  as  of  the 
buyer  of  that  land,"  said  Mathias.  "Besides,  Mon- 
sieur de  Manerville  can  buy  in  his  own  name.  At  the 
time  of  payment  we  can  make  mention  of  the  fact  that 
tne  dowry  funds  are  put  into  it." 


84  The  Marriage    Contract. 


u- 


'You  've  an  auswer  for  everything,  old  man," 
said  Solonet,  laughing.  "You  were  really  surpassing 
to-night;  you  beat  us  squarely." 

"For  an  old  fellowwho  did  n't  expect  your  batteries 
of  grape-shot,  I  did  pretty  well,  did  n't  I?  " 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!  "  laughed  Solonet. 

The  odious  struggle  in  which  the  material  welfare  of 
a  family  had  been  so  perilously  near  destruction  was 
to  the  two  notaries  nothing  more  than  a  matter  of 
professional  polemics. 

"I  haven't  been  forty  years  in  harness  for  nothing," 
remarked  Mathias.  "Look  here,  Solonet,"  he  added, 
"I'm  a  good  fellow;  you  shall  help  in  drawing  the 
deeds  for  the  sale  of  those  lands." 

"Thanks,  my  dear  Mathias.  I'll  serve  you  in 
return  on  the  very  first  occasion." 

While  the  two  notaries  were  peacefully  returning 
homeward,  with  no  other  sensations  than  a  little 
throaty  warmth,  Paul  and  Madame  ^vangelista  were 
left  a  prey  to  the  nervous  trepidation,  the  quivering 
of  the  flesh  and  brain  which  excitable  natures  pass 
through  after  a  scene  in  which  their  interests  and 
their  feelings  have  been  violently  shaken.  In  Madame 
^vangelista  these  last  mutterings  of  the  storm  were 
overshadowed  by  a  terrible  reflection,  a  lurid  gleam 
which  she  wanted,  at  any  cost,  to  dispel. 

"Has  Mattre  Mathias  destroyed  in  a  few  minutes 
the  work  I  have  been  doing  for  six  months  ? '  she 
asked  herself.  "Was  he  withdrawing  Paul  from  my 
influence  by  filling  his  mind  with  suspicion  during 
their  secret  conference  in  the  next  room?" 

She  was  standing  absorbed  in  these  thoughts  before 


The  Marriage    Contract.  85 

the  fireplace,  her  elbow  resting  on  the  marble  mantel- 
shelf. When  the  porte-cochere  closed  behind  the  car- 
riage of  the  two  notaries,  she  turned  to  her  future 
son-in-law,  impatient  to  solve  her  doubts. 

"This  has  been  the  most  terrible  day  of  my  life," 
cried  Paul,  overjoyed  to  see  all  difficulties  vanish. 
"I  know  no  one  so  downright  in  speech  as  that  old 
Mathias.  May  God  hear  him,  and  make  me  peer  of 
France!  Dear  Natalie,  I  desire  this  for  your  sake 
more  than  for  my  own.  You  are  my  ambition ;  I  live 
only  in  you." 

Hearing  this  speech  uttered  in  the  accents  of  the 
heart,  and  noting,  more  especially,  the  limpid  azure 
of  Paul's  eyes,  whose  glance  betrayed  no  thought  of 
double  meaning,  Madame  Evangelista's  satisfaction 
was  complete.  She  regretted  the  sharp  language  with 
which  she  had  spurred  him,  and  in  the  joy  of  success 
she  resolved  to  reassure  him  as  to  the  future.  Calm- 
ing her  countenance,  and  giving  to  her  eyes  that 
expression  of  tender  friendship  which  made  her  so 
attractive,  she  smiled  and  answered :  — 

"I  can  say  as  much  to  you.  Perhaps,  dear  Paul, 
my  Spanish  nature  led  me  farther  than  my  heart 
desired.  Be  what  you  are,  —  kind  as  God  himself,  — 
and  do  not  be  angry  with  me  for  a  few  hasty  words. 
Shake  hands." 

Paul  was  abashed ;  he  fancied  himself  to  blame,  and 
he  kissed  Madame  Evangelista. 

"Dear  Paul,"  she  said  with  much  emotion,  "why 
could  not  those  two  sharks  have  settled  this  matter 
without  dragging  us  into  it,  since  it  was  so  easy  to 
settle?" 


86  The  Marriage   Contract. 


tt- 


Ill  that  case  I  should  not  have  known  how  grand 
and  generous  you  can  be,"  replied  PauL 

"Indeed  she  is,  Paul!"  cried  Natalie,  pressing  his 
hand. 

44  We  have  still  a  few  little  matters  to  settle,  my 
dear  son,"  said  Madame  Evangelista.  "My  daughter 
and  I  are  above  the  foolish  vanities  to  which  so  many 
persons  cling.  Natalie  does  not  need  my  diamonds, 
but  I  am  glad  to  give  them  to  her." 

"Ah!  my  dear  mother,  do  you  suppose  that  I  will 
accept  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  child ;  they  are  one  of  the  conditions  of 
the  contract." 

"I  will  not  allow  it;  I  will  not  marry  at  all,"  cried 
Natalie,  vehemently.  "Keep  those  jewels  which  my 
father  took  such  pride  in  collecting  for  you.  How 
could  Monsieur  Paul  exact  —  " 

"Hush,  my  dear,"  said  her  mother,  whose  eyes  now 
filled  with  tears.  "My  ignorance  of  business  compels 
me  to  a  greatei  sacrifice  than  that." 

"What  sacrifice? " 

"I  must  sell  my  house  in  order  to  pay  the  money 
that  I  owe  to  you." 

"What  money  can  you  possibly  owe  to  me?"  she 
said;  "to  me,  who  owe  you  life!  If  my  marriage 
costs  you  the  slightest  sacrifice,  I  will  not  marry." 

"Child!" 

"Dear  Natalie,  try  to  understand  that  neither  I,  nor 
your  mother,  nor  you  yourself,  require  these  sacrifices, 
but  our  children." 

"Suppose  I  do  not  marry  at  all?  " 

"Do  you  not  love  me?  '    said  Paul,  tenderly. 


The  Marriage    Contract.  87 


<t< 


Come,  come,  my  silly  child;  do  you  imagine  that 
a  contract  is  like  a  house  of  cards  which  you  can 
blow  down  at  will?  Dear  little  ignoramus,  you  don't 
know  what  trouble  we  have  had  to  found  an  entail 
for  the  benefit  of  your  eldest  son.  Don't  cast  us 
back  into  the  discussions  from  which  we  have  just 
escaped." 

"Why  do  you  wish  to  ruiu  my  mother?  "  said  Natalie, 
looking  at  Paul. 

"Why  are  you  so  rich?  "  he  replied,  smiling. 

"Don't  quarrel,  my  children,  you  are  not  yet  mar- 
ried,"  said  Madame  Evangelista.  "Paul,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  you  are  not  to  give  either  corbeille,  or  jewels, 
or  trousseau.  Natalie  has  everything  in  profusion. 
Lay  by  the  money  you  would  otherwise  put  into  wed- 
ding presents.  I  know  nothing  more  stupidly  bour- 
geois and  commonplace  than  to  spend  a  hundred 
thousand  francs  on  a  corbeille,  when  five  thousand 
a  year  given  to  a  young  woman  saves  her  much  anxiety 
and  lasts  her  lifetime.  Besides,  the  money  for  a  cor- 
beille is  needed  to  decorate  your  house  in  Paris.  We 
will  return  to  Lanstrac  in  the  spring;  for  Solonet  is  to 
settle  my  debts  during  the  winter." 

"All  is  for  the  best,"  cried  Paul,  at  the  summit  of 
happiness." 

"So  I  shall  see  Paris!  "  cried  Natalie,  in  a  tone  that 
would  justly  have  alarmed  de  Marsay. 

"If  we  decide  upon  this  plan,"  said  Paul,  "I'll 
write  to  de  Marsay  and  get  him  to  take  a  box  for  me 
at  the  Bouffons  and  also  at  the  Italian  opera." 

"You  are  very  kind;  I  should  never  have  dared  to 
ask  for  it,"  said  Natalie.     "Marriage  is  a  very  agree- 


88  The  Marriage   Contract. 

able   institution   if    it   gives    husbands    a   talent   for 
divining  the  wishes  of  their  wives." 

"It  is  nothing  else,"  replied  Paul.  "But  see  how 
late  it  is;  I  ought  to  go." 

"  Why  leave  so  soon  to-night?"  said  Madame  £van- 
gelista,  employing  those  coaxing  ways  to  which  men 
are  so  sensitive. 

Though  all  this  passed  on  the  best  of  terms,  and 
according  to  the  laws  of  the  most  exquisite  politeness, 
the  effect  of  the  discussion  of  these  contending  in- 
terests had,  nevertheless,  cast  between  son  and  mother- 
in-law  a  seed  of  distrust  and  enmitv  which  was  liable 
to  sprout  under  the  first  heat  of  anger,  or  the  warmth 
of  a  feeling  too  harshly  bruised.  In  most  families 
the  settlement  of  dots  and  the  deeds  of  gift  required 
by  a  marriage  contract  give  rise  to  primitive  emotions 
of  hostility,  caused  by  self-love,  by  the  lesion  of  cer- 
tain sentiments,  by  regret  for  the  sacrifices  made,  and 
by  the  desire  to  diminish  them.  When  difficulties 
arise  there  is  always  a  victorious  side  and  a  van- 
quished one.  The  parents  of  the  future  pair  try  to 
conclude  the  matter,  which  is  purely  commercial  in 
their  eyes,  to  their  own  advantage;  and  this  leads  to 
the  trickery,  shrewdness,  and  deception  of  such  nego- 
tiations. Generally  the  husband  alone  is  initiated 
into  the  secret  of  these  discussions,  and  the  wife  is 
kept,  like  Natalie,  in  ignorance  of  the  stipulations 
which  make  her  rich  or  poor. 

As  he  left  the  house,  Paul  reflected  that,  thanks  to 
the  cleverness  of  his  notary,  his  fortune  was  almost 
entirely  secured  from  injury.  If  Madame  Evangelista 
did   not   live   apart   from  her  daughter   their  united 


The  Marriage   Contract.  89 

household  would  have  au  income  of  more  than  a  hun- 
dred thousand  francs  to  spend.  All  his  expectations 
of  a  happy  and  comfortable  life  would  be  realized. 

"My  mother-in-law  seems  to  me  an  excellent 
woman,"  he  thought,  still  under  the  influence  of  the 
cajoling  manner  by  which  she  had  endeavored  to  dis- 
perse the  clouds  raised  by  the  discussion.  "Mathias 
is  mistaken.  These  notaries  are  strange  fellows ;  they 
envenom  everything.  The  harm  started  from  that 
little  cock-sparrow  Solonet,  who  wanted  to  play  a 
clever  game." 

While  Paul  went  to  bed  recapitulating  the  advan- 
tages he  had  won  during  the  evening,  Madame 
Evangelista  was  congratulating  herself  equally  on  her 
victory. 

"Well,  darling  mother,  are  you  satisfied?"  said 
Natalie,  following  Madame  Evangelista  into  her  bed- 
room. 

"Yes,  love,"  replied  the  mother,  "everything  went 
well,  according  to  my  wishes;  I  feel  a  weight  lifted 
from  my  shoulders  which  was  crushing  me.  Paul  is 
a  most  easy-going  man.  Dear  fellow!  yes,  certainly, 
we  must  make  his  life  prosperous.  You  will  make 
him  happy,  and  I  will  be  responsible  for  his  political 
success.  The  Spanish  ambassador  used  to  be  a  friend 
of  mine,  and  I  '11  renew  the  relation  —  as  I  will  with 
the  rest  of  my  old  acquaintance.  Oh!  you  '11  see!  we 
shall  soon  be  in  the  very  heart  of  Parisian  life ;  all  will 
be  enjoyment  for  us.  You  shall  have  the  pleasures,  my 
dearest,  and  I  the  last  occupation  of  existence,  —  the 
game  of  ambition!  Don't  be  alarmed  when  you  see 
me  selling  this  house.     Do  you  suppose  we  shall  ever 


90  The  Marriage   Contract. 

come  back  to  live  in  Bordeaux?  no.  Lanstrac?  yes. 
But  we  shall  spend  all  our  winters  in  Paris,  where  our 
real  interests  will  be.  Well,  Natalie,  tell  me,  was  it 
very  difficult  to  do  what  I  asked  of  you  ?  " 

"My  little  mamma!  every  now  and  then  I  felt 
ashamed." 

"Solonet  advises  me  to  put  the  proceeds  of  this 
house  into  an  annuity,"  said  Madame  Evangelista, 
"but  I  shall  do  otherwise;  I  won't  take  a  penny  of 
my  fortune  from  you." 

"I  saw  you  were  all  very  angry,"  said  Natalie. 
"  How  did  the  tempest  calm  down  ?  " 

"By  an  offer  of  my  diamonds,"  replied  Madame 
Evangelista.  "Solonet  was  right.  How  ably  he  con- 
ducted the  whole  affair.  Get  out  my  jewel-case, 
Natalie.  I  have  never  seriously  considered  what  my 
diamonds  are  worth.  When  I  said  a  hundred  thou- 
sand francs  I  talked  nonsense.  Madame  de  Gyas 
always  declared  that  the  necklace  and  ear-rings  your 
father  gave  me  on  our  marriage  day  were  worth  at 
least  that  sum.  My  poor  husband  was  so  lavish! 
Then  my  family  diamond,  the  one  Philip  the  Second 
gave  to  the  Duke  of  Alba,  and  which  my  aunt  be- 
queathed to  me,  the  Discreto,  was,  I  think,  appraised 
in  former  times  at  four  thousand  quadruples, —  one  of 
our  Spanish  gold  coins. 

Natalie  laid  out  upon  her  mother's  toilet-table  the 
pearl  necklace,  the  sets  of  jewels,  the  gold  bracelets 
and  precious  stones  of  all  description,  with  that  inex- 
pressible sensation  enjoyed  by  certain  women  at  the 
sight  of  such  treasures,  by  which  —  so  commentators 
on    the   Talmud   say  —  the  fallen  angels   seduce   the 


The  Marriage   Contract.  91 

daughters  of  men,  having  sought  these  flowers  of 
celestial  fire  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth. 

0 

"Certainly,"  said  Madame  Evangelista,  "though 
I  know  nothing  about  jewels  except  how  to  accept 
and  wear  them,  I  think  there  must  be  a  great  deal  of 
money  in  these.  Then,  if  we  make  but  one  house- 
hold, I  can  sell  my  plate,  the  weight  of  which,  as  mere 
silver,  would  bring  thirty  thousand  francs.  I  remem- 
ber when  we  brought  it  from  Lima,  the  custom-house 
officers  weighed  and  appraised  it.     Solonet  is  right. 

*  0 

I  '11  send  to-morrow  to  Elie  Magus.  The  Jew  shall 
estimate  the  value. of  these  things.  Perhaps  I  can 
avoid  sinking  any  of  my  fortune  in  an  annuity." 

"What  a  beautiful  pearl  necklace!  "  said  Natalie. 

"He  ought  to  give  it  to  you,  if  he  loves  you," 
replied  her  mother;  "and  I  think  he  might  have  all 
my  other  jewels  reset  and  let  you  keep  them.  The 
diamonds  are  a  part  of  your  property  in  the  contract. 
And  now,  good-night,  my  darling.  After  the  fatigues 
of  this  day  we  both  need  rest." 

The  woman  of  luxury,  the  Creole,  the  great  lady, 
incapable  of  analyzing  the  results  of  a  contract  which 
was  not  yet  in  force,  went  to  sleep  in  the  joy  of  see- 
ing her  daughter  married  to  a  man  who  was  easy  to 
manage,  who  would  let  them  both  be  mistresses  of 
his  home,  and  whose  fortune,  united  to  theirs,  would 
require  no  change  in  their  way  of  living.  Thus  hav- 
ing settled  her  account  with  her  daughter,  whose 
patrimony  was  acknowledged  in  the  contract,  Madame 

0 

Evangelista  could  feel  at  her  ease. 

How  foolish  of  me  to  worry  as  I  did,"  she  thought. 


.. 


But  I  wish  the  marriage  were  well  over." 


a 


92  The  Marriage    Contract. 

So  Madame  ^Ivangelista,  Paul,  Natalie,  and  the 
two  notaries  were  equally  satisfied  with  the  first  day's 
result.  The  Te  Deum  was  sung  in  both  camps,  —  a 
dangerous  situation;  for  there  comes  a  moment  when 
the  vanquished  side  is  aware  of  its  mistake.  To 
Madame  Evangelista's  mind,  her  son-in-law  was  the 
vanquished  side. 


The  Marriage    Contract.  93 


IV. 

THE    MARRIAGE-CONTRACT  —  SECOND    DAY. 

The  next  day  l^lie  Magus  (who  happened  at  that 
time  to  be  in  Bordeaux)  obeyed  Madame  Evangelista's 
summons,  believing,  from  general  rumor  as  to  the 
marriage  of  Comte  Paul  with  Mademoiselle  Natalie, 
that  it  concerned  a  purchase  of  jewels  for  the  bride. 
The  Jew  was,  therefore,  astonished  when  he  learned 
that,  on  the  contrary,  he  was  sent  for  to  estimate  the 
value  of  the  mother-in-law's  property.  The  instinct 
of  his  race,  as  well  as  certain  insidious  questions, 
made  him  aware  that  the  value  of  the  diamonds  was 
included  in  the  marriage-contract.  The  stones  were 
not  to  be  sold,  and  yet  he  was  to  estimate  them  as  if 
some  private  person  were  buying  them  from  a  dealer. 
Jewellers  alone  know  how  to  distinguish  between  the 
diamonds  of  Asia  and  those  of  Brazil.  The  stones  of 
Golconda  and  Visapur  are  known  by  a  whiteness  and 
glittering  brilliancy  which  others  have  not,  — the  water 
of  the  Brazilian  diamonds  having  a  yellow  tinge  which 
reduces  their  selling  value.  Madame  Evangelista's 
necklace  and  ear-rings,  being  composed  entirely  of 
Asiatic  diamonds,  were  valued  by  Elie  Magus  at 
two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs.  As  for  the 
Discrete*.,  he  pronounced  it  one  of  the  finest  diamonds 


94  The  Marriage   Contract. 

in  the  possession  of  private  persons ;  it  was  known  to 
the  trade  and  valued  at  one  hundred  thousand  francs. 
On  hearing  this  estimate,  which  proved  to  her  the 
lavishness  of  her  husband,  Madame  Evangelista  asked 
the  old  Jew  whether  she  should  be  able  to  obtain  that 
money  immediately. 

"Madame,"  replied  the  Jew,  "if  you  wish  to  sell 
I  can  give  you  only  seventy-five  thousand  for  the 
brilliant,  and  one  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  for 
the  necklace  and  earrings." 

"Why  such  reduction?  " 

"Madame,"  replied  Magus,"  the  finer  the  diamond, 
the  longer  we  keep  it  unsold.  The  rarity  of  such 
investments  is  one  reason  for  the  high  value  set  upon 
precious  stones.  As  the  merchant  cannot  lose  the 
interest  of  his  money,  this  additional  sum,  joined  to 
the  rise  and  fall  to  which  such  merchandise  is  subject, 
explains  the  difference  between  the  price  of  purchase 
and  the  price  of  sale.  By  owning  these  diamonds 
you  have  lost  the  interest  on  three  hundred  thousand 
francs  for  twenty  years.  If  you  wear  your  jewels  ten 
times  a  year,  it  costs  you  three  thousand  francs  each 
evening  to  put  them  on.  How  many  beautiful  gowns 
you  could  buy  with  that  sum.  Those  who  own  dia- 
monds are,  therefore,  very  foolish;  but,  luckily  for 
us,  women  are  never  willing  to  understand  the  cal- 
culation." 

"I  thank  you  for  explaining  it  to  me,  and  I  shall 
profit  by  it." 

"Do  you  wish  to  sell?  "  asked  Magus,  eagerly. 

"What  are  the  other  jewels  worth?  " 

The  Jew  examined  the  gold  of  the  settings,  held  the 


The  Marriage   Contract.  95 

pearls  to  the  light,  scrutinized  the  rubies,  the  diadems, 
clasps,  bracelets,  and  chains,  and  said,  in  a  mumbling 
tone : — 

UA  good  many  Portuguese  diamonds  from  Brazil 
are  among  them.  They  are  not  worth  more  than  a 
hundred  thousand  to  me.  But,"  he  added,  "a  dealer 
would  sell  them  to  a  customer  for  one  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand,  at  least." 

"I  shall  keep  them,"  said  Madame  flvangelista. 

"You  are  wrong,"  replied  Elie  Magus.  "With  the 
income  from  the  sum  they  represent  you  could  buy 
just  as  fine  diamonds  in  five  years,  and  have  the 
capital  to  boot." 

This  singular  conference  became  known,  and  cor- 
roborated certain  rumors  excited  by  the  discussion  of 
the  contract.  The  servants  of  the  house,  overhearing 
high  voices,  supposed  the  difficulties  greater  than  they 
really  were.  Their  gossip  with  other  valets  spread  the 
information,  which  from  the  lower  regions  rose  to  the 
ears  of  the  masters.  The  attention  of  society,  and  of 
the  town  in  general,  became  so  fixed  on  the  marriage 
of  two  persons  equally  rich  and  well-born,  that  every 
one,  great  and  small,  busied  themselves  about  the 
matter,  and  in  less  than  a  week  the  strangest  rumors 
were  bruited  about. 

"Madame  ^Ivangelista  sells  her  house;  she  must  be 
ruined.  She  offered  her  diamonds  to  Elie  Magus. 
Nothing  is  really  settled  between  herself  and  the 
Comte  de  Manerville.  Is  it  probable  that  the  mar- 
riage will  ever  take  place?  " 

To  this  question  some  answered  yes,  and  others 
said  no.     The  two  notaries,  when  questioned,  denied 


96  The  Marriage   Contract. 

these  calumnies,  and  declared  that  the  difficulties  arose 
only  from  the  official  delay  in  constituting  the  entail. 
But  when  public  opinion  has  taken  a  trend  in  one 
direction  it  is  very  difficult  to  turn  it  back.  Though 
Paul  went  every  day  to  Madame  Evangelista's  house, 
and  though  the  notaries  denied  these  assertions  con- 
tinually, the  whispered  calumny  went  on.  Young 
girls,  and  their  mothers  and  aunts,  vexed  at  a  mar- 
riage they  had  dreamed  of  for  themselves  or  for  their 
families,  could  not  forgive  the  Spanish  ladies  for  their 
happiness,  as  authors  cannot  forgive  each  other  for 
their  success.  A  few  persons  revenged  themselves  for 
the  twenty-years  luxury  and  grandeur  of  the  family 
of  Evangelista,  which  had  lain  heavily  on  their  self- 
love.  A  leading  personage  at  the  prefecture  declared 
that  the  notaries  could  have  chosen  no  other  language 
and  followed  no  other  conduct  in  the  case  of  a  rupture. 
The  time  actually  required  for  the  establishment  of 
the  entail  confirmed  the  suspicions  of  the  Bordeaux 
provincials. 

"They  will  keep  the  ball  going  through  the  winter; 
then,  in  the  spring,  they  will  go  to  some  watering- 
place,  and  we  shall  learn  before  the  year  is  out  that 
the  marriage  is  off.'* 

"And,  of  course,  we  shall  be  given  to  understand," 
said  others,  "for  the  sake  of  the  honor  of  the  two 
families,  that  the  difficulties  did  not  come  from  either 
side,  but  the  chancellor  refused  to  consent;  you  may 
be  sure  it  will  be  some  quibble  about  that  entail  which 
will  cause  the  rupture." 

"Madame  Evangelista,"  some  said,  "lived  in  a 
style  that  the  mines  of   Valenciana   could  n't   meet. 


The  Marriage   Contract.  97 

When  the  time  came  to  melt  the  bell,  and  pay  the 
daughter's  patrimony,  nothing  would  be  found  to  pay 
it  with." 

The  occasion  was  excellent  to  add  up  the  spend ings 
of  the  handsome  widow  and  prove,  categorically,  her 
ruin.  Rumors  were  so  rife  that  bets  were  made  for 
and  against  the  marriage.  By  the  laws  of  worldly 
jurisprudence  this  gossip  was  not  allowed  to  reach  the 
ears  of  the  parties  concerned.  No  one  was  enemy  or 
friend  enough  to  Paul  or  to  Madame  ^Ivangelista  to 
inform  either  of  what  was  being  said.  Paul  had  some 
business  at  Lanstrac,  and  used  the  occasion  to  make  a 
hunting-party  for  several  of  the  young  men  of  Bor- 
deaux,—  a  sort  of  farewell,  as  it  were,  to  his  bachelor 
life.  This  hunting  party  was  accepted  by  society  as 
a  signal  confirmation  of  public  suspicion. 

When  this  event  occurred,  Madame  de  Gyas,  who 
had  a  daughter  to  marry,  thought  it  high  time  to 
sound  the  matter,  and  to  condole,  with  joyful  heart, 
the  blow  received  by  the  Evangelistas.  Natalie  and 
her  mother  were  somewhat  surprised  to  see  the 
lengthened  face  of  the  marquise,  and  they  asked  at 
once  if  anything  distressing  had  happened  to  her. 

"Can  it  be,"  she  replied,  "that  you  are  ignorant  of 
the  rumors  that  are  circulating?  Though  I  think  them 
false  myself,  I  have  come  to  learn  the  truth  in  order 
to  stop  this  gossip,  at  any  rate  among  the  circle  of 
my  own  friends.  To  be  the  dupes  or  the  accomplices 
of  such  an  error  is  too  false  a  position  for  true  friends 
to  occupy." 

"But  what  is  it?  what  has  happened?"  asked 
mother  and  daughter. 


98  The  Marriage   Contract. 

Madame  de  Gyas  thereupon  allowed  herself  the  hap- 
piness of  repeating  all  the  current  gossip,  not  sparing 
her  two  friends  a  single  stab.  Natalie  and  Madame 
Evangelista  looked  at  each  other  and  laughed,  but 
they  fully  understood  the  meaning  of  the  tale  and  the 
motives  of  their  friend.  The  Spanish  lady  took  her 
revenge  very  much  as  Celimene  took  hers  on  Arsinoe. 

4 'My  dear,  are  you  ignorant  —  you  who  know  the 
provinces  so  well  > —  can  you  be  ignorant  of  what  a 
mother  is  capable  when  she  has  on  her  hands  a  daugh- 
ter whom  she  cannot  marry  for  want  of  clot  and  lovers, 
want  of  beauty,  want  of  mind,  and,  sometimes,  want 
of  everything?  Why,  a  mother  in  that  position  would 
rob  a  diligence  or  commit  a  murder,  or  wait  for  a  man 
at  the  corner  of  a  street  —  she  would  sacrifice  herself 
twenty  times  over,  if  she  was  a  mother  at  all.  Now, 
as  you  and  I  both  know,  there  are  many  such  in  that 
situation  in  Bordeaux,  and  no  doubt  they  attribute  to 
us  their  own  thoughts  and  actions.  Naturalists  have 
depicted  the  habits  and  customs  of  many  ferocious 
animals,  but  they  have  forgotten  the  mother  and 
daughter  in  quest  of  a  husband.  Such  women  are 
hyenas,  going  about,  as  the  Psalmist  says,  seeking 
whom  they  may  devour,  and  adding  to  the  instinct  of 
the  brute  the  intellect  of  man,  and  the  genius  of 
woman.  I  can  understand  that  those  little  spiders, 
Mademoiselle  de  Belor,  Mademoiselle  de  Trans,  and 
others,  after  working  so  long  at  their  webs  without 
catching  a  fly,  without  so  much  as  hearing  a  buzz, 
should  be  furious;  I  can  even  forgive  their  spiteful 
speeches.  But  that  you,  who  can  marry  your  daughter 
when  you  please,  you,   who  are  rich  and  titled,  you 


The  Marriage   Contract.  99 

who  have  nothing  of  the  provincial  about  you,  whose 
daughter  is  clever  and  possesses  fine  qualities,  with 
beauty  and  the  power  to  choose  —  that  you,  so  distin- 
guished from  the  rest  by  your  Parisian  grace,  should 
have  paid  the  least  heed  to  this  talk  does  really  sur- 
prise me.  Am  I  bound  to  account  to  the  public  for 
the  marriage  stipulations  which  our  notaries  think 
necessary  under  the  political  circumstances  of  my 
son-in-law's  future  life?  Has  the  mania  for  public 
discussion  made  its  way  into  families?  Ought  I  to 
convoke  in  writing  the  fathers  and  mothers  of  the 
province  to  come  here  and  give  their  vote  on  the 
clauses  of  our  marriage  contract?  " 

A  torrent  of  epigram  flowed  over  Bordeaux. 
Madame  Evangelista  was  about  to  leave  the  city,  and 
could  safely  scan  her  friends  and  enemies,  caricature 
them  and  lash  them  as  she  pleased,  with  nothing  to 
fear  in  return.  Accordingly,  she  now  gave  vent  to 
her  secret  observations  and  her  latent  dislikes  as  she 
sought  for  the  reason  why  this  or  that  person  denied 
the  shining  of  the  sun  at  mid-day. 

"But,  my  dear,"  said  the  Marquise  de  Gyas,  "this 
stay  of  the  count  at  Lanstrac,  these  parties  given  to 
young  men  under  such  circumstances  —  " 

"Ah!  my  dear,"  said  the  great  lady,  interrupting 
the  marquise,  "do  you  suppose  that  we  adopt  the 
pettiness  of  bourgeois  customs?  Is  Count  Paul  held 
in  bonds  like  a  man  who  might  seek  to  get  away? 
Think  you  we  ought  to  watch  him  with  a  squad  of 
gendarmes  lest  some  provincial  conspiracy  should  get 
him  away  from  us  ?  " 

"Be  assured,  my  dearest  friend,  that  it  gives  me 
the  greatest  pleasure  to  —  " 


100  The  Marriage   Contract. 

Here  her  words  were  interrupted  by  a  footman 
who  entered  the  room  to  announce  Paul.  Like  many 
lovers,  Paul  thought  it  charming  to  ride  twelve  miles 
to  spend  an  hour  with  Natalie.  He  had  left  his 
friends  while  hunting,  and  came  in  booted  and 
spurred,  and  whip  in  hand. 

"Dear  Paul,"  said  Natalie,  "you  don't  know  what 
an  answer  you  are  giving  to  madame." 

When  Paul  heard  of  the  gossip  that  was  current  in 
Bordeaux,  he  laughed  instead  of  being  angry. 

"These  worthy  people  have  found  out,  perhaps,  that 
there  will  be  no  wedding  festivities,  according  to  pro- 
vincial usages,  no  marriage  at  mid-day  in  the  church, 
and  they  are  furious.  Well,  my  dear  mother,"  he 
added,  kissing  her  nand,  "let  us  pacify  them  with  a 
ball  on  the  day  when  we  sign  the  contract,  just  as  the 
government  flings  a  fete  to  the  people  in  the  great 
square  of  the  Champs-Elysees,  and  we  will  give  our 
dear  friends  the  dolorous  pleasure  of  signing  a  mar- 
riage-contract such  as  they  have  seldom  heard  of  in 
the  provinces." 

This  little  incident  proved  of  great  importance. 
Madame  Evangelista  invited  all  Bordeaux  to  witness 
the  signature  of  the  contract,  and  showed  her  intention 
of  displaying  in  this  last  fete  a  luxury  which  should 
refute  the  foolish  lies  of  the  community. 

The  preparations  for  this  event  required  over  a 
month,  and  it  was  called  the  fete  of  the  camellias. 
Immense  quantities  of  that  beautiful  flower  were 
massed  on  the  staircase,  and  in  the  antechamber  and 
supper-room.  During  this  month  the  formalities  for 
constituting  the  entail  were  concluded   in   Paris;  the 


The  Marriage   Contract.  101 

estates  adjoining  Lanstrac  v?eije  purchased,  tha  banns 
were  published,  and  all  doubts  •  fiualU  dissipated. 
Friends  and  enemies  thouglic  only  of  preparmg  their 
toilets  for  the  coming  fete. 

The  time  occupied  by  these  events  obscured  the 
difficulties  raised  by  the  first  discussion,  and  swept 
into  oblivion  the  words  and  arguments  of  that  stormy 
conference.  Neither  Paul  nor  his  mother-in-law  con- 
tinued to  think  of  them.  Were  they  not,  after  all,  as 
Madame  ^vangelista  had  said,  the  affair  of  the  two 
notaries  ? 

But  —  to  whom  has  it  never  happened,  when  life  is 
in  its  fullest  flow,  to  be  suddenly  challenged  by  the 
voice  of  memory,  raised,  perhaps,  too  late,  reminding 
us  of  some  important  fact,  some  threatened  danger? 
On  the  morning  of  the  day  when  the  contract  was  to 
be  signed  and  the  fete  given,  one  of  these  flashes  of 
the  soul  illuminated  the  mind  of  Madame  Evangelista 
during  the  semi-somnolence  of  her  waking  hour.  The 
words  that  she  herself  had  uttered  at  the  moment  when 
Mathias  acceded  to  Solonet's  condition,  Questa  coda 
non  e  di  questo  yatto,  were  cried  aloud  in  her  mind 
by  that  voice  of  memory.  In  spite  of  her  incapacity 
for  business,  Madame  ^vangelista's  shrewdness  told 
her :  — 

"If  so  clever  a  notary  as  Mathias  was  pacified,  it 
must  have  been  that  he  saw  compensation  at  the  cost 
of  some  one." 

That  some  one  could  not  be  Paul,  as  she  had  blindly 
hoped.  Could  it  be  that  her  daughter's  fortune  was 
to  pay  the  costs  of  war?  She  resolved  to  demand 
explanations  on  the  tenor  of  the  contract,  not  reflect- 


102  The  Marriage   Contract. 

ing  on  the  course  she  would  have  to  take  in  case  she 
found,  her  mteresis  seriously  compromised.  This  clay 
had  so  powerful  an  influence  on  Paul  de  Manerville's 
conjugal  life  that  it  is  necessary  to  explain  certain  of 
the  external  circumstances  which  accompanied  it. 

Madame  Evangelista  had  shrunk  from  no  expense 
for  this  dazzling  fete.  The  court-yard  was  gravelled 
and  converted  into  a  tent,  and  filled  with  shrubs, 
although  it  was  winter.  The  camellias,  of  which  so 
much  had  been  said  from  Angouleme  to  Dax,  were 
banked  on  the  staircase  and  in  the  vestibules.  Wall 
partitions  had  disappeared  to  enlarge  the  supper-room 
and  the  ball-room  where  the  dancing  was  to  be.  Bor- 
deaux, a  city  famous  for  the  luxury  of  colonial  for- 
tunes, was  on  a  tiptoe  of  expectation  for  this  scene  of 
fairyland.  About  eight  o'clock,  as  the  last  discus- 
sion of  the  contract  was  taking  place  within  the  house, 
the  inquisitive  populace,  anxious  to  see  the  ladies  in 
full  dress  getting  out  of  their  carriages,  formed  in  two 
hedges  on  either  side  of  the  porte-cochere.  Thus  the 
sumptuous  atmosphere  of  a  fete  acted  upon  all  minds 
at  the  moment  when  the  contract  was  being  signed, 
illuminating  colored  lamps  lighted  up  the  shrubs,  and 
the  wheels  of  the  arriving  guests  echoed  from  the 
court-yard.  The  two  notaries  had  dined  with  the 
bridal  pair  and  their  mother.  Mathias's  head-clerk, 
whose  business  it  was  to  receive  the  signatures  of  the 
guests  during  the  evening  (taking  due  care  that  the 
contract  was  not  surreptitiously  read  by  the  signers), 
was  also  present  at  the  dinner. 

No  bridal  toilet  was  ever  comparable  with  that  of 
Natalie,  whose  beauty,  decked  with  laces  and  satin. 


The  Marriage    Contract.  103 

her  hair  coquettishly  falling  in  a  myriad  of  curls  about 
her  throat,  resembled  that  of  a  flower  encased  in  its 
foliage.  Madame  Evangelista,  robed  in  a  gown  of 
cherry  velvet,  a  color  judiciously  chosen  to  heighten 
the  brilliancy  of  her  skin  and  her  black  hair  and  eyes, 
glowed  with  the  beauty  of  a  woman  at  forty,  and 
wore  her  pearl  necklace,  clasped  with  the  Disereto,  a 
visible  contradiction  to  the  late  calumnies. 

To  fully  explain  this  scene,  it  is  necessary  to  say 
that  Paul  and  Natalie  sat  together  on  a  sofa  beside 
the  fireplace  and  paid  no  attention  to  the  reading  of 
the  documents.  Equally  childish  and  equally  happy, 
regarding  life  as  a  cloudless  sky,  rich,  young,  and 
loving,  they  chattered  to  each  other  in  a  low  voice, 
sinking  into  whispers.  Arming  his  love  with  the 
presence  of  legality,  Paul  took  delight  in  kissing  the 
tips  of  Natalie's  fingers,  in  lightly  touching  her  snowy 
shoulders  and  the  waving  curls  of  her  hair,  hiding 
from  the  eyes  of  others  these  joys  of  illegal  emancipa- 
tion. Natalie  played  with  a  screen  of  peacock's  feathers 
given  to  her  by  Paul,  —  a  gift  which  is  to  love,  accord- 
ing to  superstitious  belief  in  certain  countries,  as 
dangerous  an  omen  as  the  gift  of  scissors  or  other 
cutting  instruments,  which  recall,  no  doubt,  the  Parces 
of  antiquity. 

Seated  beside  the  two  notaries,  Madame  Evange- 
lista gave  her  closest  attention  to  the  reading  of  the 
documents.  After  listening  to  the  guardianship  ac- 
count, most  ably  written  out  by  Solonet,  in  which 
Natalie's  share  of  the  three  million  and  more  francs 
left  by  Monsieur  Evangelista  was  shown  to  be  the 
much-debated  eleven  hundred  and  fifty-six  thousand, 


104  The  Marriage   Contract, 

Madame    Evangelista    said    to    the    heedless    young 
couple :  —  t 

"Come,  listen,  listen,  my  children;  this  is  your 
marriage  contract.'* 

The  clerk  drank  a  glass  of  iced-water,  Solonet  and 
Mathias  blew  their  noses,  Paul  and  Natalie  looked  at 
the  four  personages  before  them,  listened  to  the  pre- 
amble, and  returned  to  their  chatter.  The  statement 
of  the  property  brought  by  each  party;  the  general 
deed  of  gift  in  the  event  of  death  without  issue;  the 
deed  of  gift  of  one-fourth  in  life-interest  and  one- 
fourth  in  capital  without  interest,  allowed  by  the 
Code,  whatever  be  the  number  of  the  children;  the 
constitution  of  a  common  fund  for  husband  and  wife ; 
the  settlement  of  the  diamonds  on  the  wife,  the  library 
and  horses  on  the  husband,  were  duly  read  and  passed 
without  observations.  Then  followed  the  constitution 
of  the  entail.  When  all  was  read  and  nothing  re- 
mained  but  to  sign  the  contract,  Madame  Evangelista 
demanded  to  know  what  would  be  the  ultimate  effect 
of  the  entail. 

"An  entail,  madame,"  replied  Solonet,  "means  an 
inalienable  right  to  the  inheritance  of  certain  property 
belonging  to  both  husband  and  wife,  which  is  settled 
from  generation  to  generation  on  the  eldest  son  of  the 
house,  without,  however,  depriving  him  of  his  right  to 
share  in  the  division  of  the  rest  of  the  property." 

"What  will  be  the  effect  of  this  on  my  daughter's 
rights  ?  " 

Maitre  Mathias,  incapable  of  disguising  the  truth, 
replied :  — 

Madame,  an  entail  being  an  appanage,  or  portion 


a- 


The  Marriage   Contract.  105 

of  property  set  aside  for  this  purpose  from  the  for- 
tunes of  husband  and  wife,  it  follows  that  if  the  wife 
dies  first,  leaving  several  children,  one  of  them  a  son, 
Monsieur  de  Manerville  will  owe  those  children  three 
hundred  and  sixty  thousand  francs  only,  from  which 
he  will  deduct  his  fourth  in  life-interest  and  his  fourth 
in  capital.  Thus  his  debt  to  those  children  will  be 
reduced  to  one  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  francs,  or 
thereabouts,  exclusive  of  his  savings  and  profits  from 
the  common  fund  constituted  for  husband  and  wife. 
If,  on  the  contrary,  he  dies  first,  leaving  a  male  heir, 
Madame  de  Manerville  has  a  right  to  three  hundred 
and  sixty  thousand  francs  only,  and  to  her  deeds  of 
gift  of  such  of  her  husband's  property  as  is  not  in- 
cluded in  the  entail,  to  the  diamonds  now  settled  upon 
her,  and  to  her  profits  and  savings  from  the  common 
fund." 

The  effect  of  Maitre  Mathias's  astute  and  far-sighted 
policy  were  now  plainly  seen. 

"My  daughter  is  ruined,"  said  Madame  ^Ivangdlista 
in  a  low  voice. 

The  old  and  the  young  notary  both  overheard  the 
words. 

4 'Is  it  ruin,"  replied  Mathias,  speaking  gently,  "to 
constitute  for  her  family  an  indestructible  fortune  ?  " 

The  younger  notary,  seeing  the  expression  of  his 
client's  face,  thought  it  judicious  in  him  to  state  the 
disaster  in  plain  terms. 

"We  tried  to  trick  them  out  of  three  hundred  thou- 
sand francs,"  he  whispered  to  the  angry  woman.  "They 
have  actually  laid  hold  of  eight  hundred  thousand ;  it 
is  a  loss  of  four  hundred  thousand  from  our  interests 


106  The  Marriage    Contract. 

for  the  benefit  of  the  children.  You  must  now  either 
break  the  marriage  off  at  once,  or  carry  it  through," 
concluded  Solonet. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  moment  of  silence 
that  followed.  Maitre  Mathias  waited  in  triumph  the 
signature  of  the  two  persons  who  had  expected  to  rob 
his  client.  Natalie,  not  competent  to  understand  that 
she  had  lost  half  her  fortune,  and  Paul,  ignorant  that 
the  house  of  Manerville  had  gained  it,  were  laughing 
and  chatteriDg  still  Solonet  and  Madame  ^vangelista 
gazed  at  each  other;  the  one  endeavoring  to  conceal  his 
indifference,  the  other  repressing  the  rush  of  a  crowd 
of  bitter  feelings. 

After  suffering  in  her  own  mind  the  struggles  of 
remorse,  after  blaming  Paul  as  the  cause  of  her  dis- 
honesty, Madame  Evangelista  had  decided  to  employ 
those  shameful  manoeuvres  to  cast  on  him  the  burden 
of  her  own  unfaithful  guardianship,  considering  him 
her  victim.  But  now,  in  a  moment,  she  perceived 
that  where  she  thought  she  triumphed  she  was  about 
to  perish,  and  her  victim  was  her  own  daughter. 
Guilty  without  profit,  she  saw  herself  the  dupe  of  an 
honorable  old  man,  whose  respect  she  had  doubtless 
lost.  Her  secret  conduct  must  have  inspired  the 
stipulation  of  old  Mathias;  and  Mathias  must  have 
enlightened  Paul.  Horrible  reflection!  Even  if  he 
had  not  yet  done  so,  as  soon  as  that  contract  was 
signed  the  old  wolf  would  surely  warn  his  client  of 
the  dangers  he  had  run  and  had  now  escaped,  were  it 
only  to  receive  the  praise  of  his  sagacity.  He  would 
put  him  on  his  guard  against  the  wily  woman  who  had 
lowered  herself  to  this  conspiracy;  he  would  destroy 


The  Marriage   Contract.  107 

the  empire  she  had  conquered  over  her  son-in-law! 
Feeble  natures,  once  warned,  turn  obstinate,  and  are 
never  won  again.  At  the  first  discussion  of  the  con- 
tract she  had  reckoned  on  Paul's  weakness,  and  on  the 
impossibility  he  would  feel  of  breaking  off  a  marriage 
so  far  advanced.  But  now,  she  herself  was  far  more 
tightly  bound.  Three  months  earlier  Paul  had  no  real 
obstacles  to  prevent  the  rupture;  now,  all  Bordeaux 
knew  that  the  notaries  had  smoothed  the  difficulties; 
the  banns  were  published;  the  wedding  was  to  take 
place  immediately;  the  friends  of  both  families  were 
at  that  moment  arriving  for  the  fete,  and  to  witness 
the  contract.  How  could  she  postpone  the  marriage  at 
this  late  hour?  The  cause  of  the  rupture  would  surely 
be  made  known;  Maitre  Mathias's  stern  honor  was  too 
well  known  in  Bordeaux;  his  word  would  be  believed 
in  preference  to  hers.  The  scoffers  would  turn  against 
her  and  against  her  daughter.  No,  she  could  not 
break  it  off;  she  must  yield! 

These  reflections,  so  cruelly  sound,  fell  upon  Madame 
^vangelista's  brain  like  a  water-spout  and  split  it. 
Though  she  still  maintained  the  dignity  and  reserve 
of  a  diplomatist,  her  chin  was  shaken  by  that  apoplec- 
tic movement  which  showed  the  anger  of  Catherine 
the  Second  on  the  famous  day  when,  seated  on  her 
throne  and  in  presence  of  her  court  (very  much  in  the 
present  circumstances  of  Madame  Evangelista),  she 
was  braved  by  the  King  of  Sweden.  Solonet  observed 
that  play  of  the  muscles,  which  revealed  the  birth 
of  a  mortal  hatred,  a  lurid  storm  to  which  there  was 
no  lightning.  At  this  moment  Madame  Evangelista 
vowed  to  her  son-in-law  one  of  those  unquenchable 


108  The  Marriage    Contract. 

hatreds  the  seeds  of  which  were  left  by  the  Moors  in 
the  atmosphere  of  Spain. 

"Monsieur,"  she  said,  bending  to  the  ear  of  her 
notary,  "you  called  that  stipulation  balderdash;  it 
seems  to  me  that  nothing  could  have  been  more 
clear." 

"Madame,  allow  me —  " 

"Monsieur,"  she  continued,  paying  no  heed  to  his 
interruption,  "if  you  did  not  perceive  the  effect  of  that 
entail  at  the  time  of  our  first  conference,  it  is  very  ex- 
traordinary that  it  did  not  occur  to  you  in  the  silence 
of  your  study.     This  can  hardly  be  incapacity." 

The  young  notary  drew  his  client  into  the  next 
room,  saying  to  himself,  as  he  did  so:  — 

"I  get  a  three-thousand-franc  fee  for  the  guardian- 
ship account,  three  thousand  for  the  contract,  six 
thousand  on  the  sale  of  the  house,  fifteen  thousand 
in  all  —  better  not  be  angry." 

He  closed  the  door,  cast  on  Madame  Evangelists 
the  cool  look  of  a  business  man,   and  said :  — 

"Madame,  having,  for  your  sake,  passed  —  as  I 
did  —  the  proper  limits  of  legal  craft,  do  you  seriously 
intend  to  reward  my  devotion  by  such  language  ?  " 

"But,  monsieur  —  " 

"Madame,  I  did  not,  it  is  true,  calculate  the  effect 
of  the  deeds  of  gift.  But  if  you  do  not  wish  Comte 
Paul  for  your  son-in-law  you  are  not  obliged  to  accept 
him.  The  contract  is  not  signed.  Give  your  fete, 
and  postpone  the  signing.  It  is  far  better  to  brave 
Bordeaux  than  sacrifice  yourself." 

"How  can  I  justify  such  a  course  to  society,  which 
is  already  prejudiced  against  us  by  the  slow  conclusion 
of  the  marriage?  " 


The  Marriage   Contract.  109 

"By  some  error  committed  in  Paris;  some  missing 
document  not  sent  with  the  rest,"  replied  Solonet. 

"But  those  purchases  of  land  near  Lanstrac?  " 

"  Monsieur  de  Manerville  will  be  at  no  loss  to  find 
another  bride  and  another  dowry." 

"Yes,  he  '11  lose  nothing;  but  we  lose  all,  all!  " 

"You?  "  replied  Solonet;  "why,  you  can  easily  find 
another  count  who  will  cost  you  less  money,  if  a  title 
is  the  chief  object  of  this  marriage." 

"No,  no!  we  can't  stake  our  honor  in  that  way.  I 
am  caught  in  a  trap,  monsieur.  All  Bordeaux  will 
ring  with  this  to-morrow.  Our  solemn  words  are 
pledged  —  " 

"You  wish  the  happiness  of  Mademoiselle  Natalie." 

"Above  all  things." 

"To  be  happy  in  France,"  said  the  notary,  "means 
being  mistress  of  the  home.  She  can  lead  that  fool 
of  a  Manerville  by  the  nose  if  she  chooses ;  he  is  so 
dull  he  has  actually  seen  nothing  of  all  this.  Even  if 
he  now  distrusts  you,  he  will  always  trust  his  wife; 
and  his  wife  is  you,  is  she  not?  The  count's  fate  is 
still  within  your  power  if  you  choose  to  play  the  cards 
in  your  hand." 

"If  that  were  true,  monsieur,  I  know  not  what  I 
would  not  do  to  show  my  gratitude,"  she  said,  in  a 
transport  of  feeling  that  colored  her  cheeks. 

"Let  us  now  return  to  the  others,  madame,"  said 
Solonet.  "Listen  carefully  to  what  I  shall  say;  and 
then  —  you  shall  think  me  incapable  if  you  choose." 

"M}T  dear  friend,"  said  the  young  notary  to  Maitre 
Mathias,  "in  spite  of  your  great  ability,  you  have  not 
foreseen  either  the  case  of  Monsieur  de  Manerville 


110  The  Marriage    Contract. 

dying  without  children,  nor  that  in  which  he  leaves 
only  female  issue.  In  either  of  those  cases  the  entail 
would  pass  to  the  Manervilles,  or,  at  any  rate,  give 
rise  to  suits  on  their  part.  I  think,  therefore,  it  is 
necessary  to  stipulate  that  in  the  first  case  the  entailed 
property  shall  pass  under  the  general  deed  of  gift 
between  husband  and  wife;  and  in  the  second  case 
that  the  entail  be  declared  void.  This  agreement 
concerns  the  wife's  interest." 

"Both  clauses  seem  to  me  perfectly  just,"  said 
Maitre  Mathias.  "As  to  their  ratification,  Monsieur 
le  comte  can,  doubtless,  come  to  an  understanding 
with  the  chancellor,   if  necessary." 

Solonet  took  a  pen  and  added  this  momentous  clause 
on  the  margin  of  the  contract,  Paul  and  Natalie  paid 
no  attention  to  the  matter;  but  Madame  Evangelista 
dropped  her  eyes  while  Maitre  Mathias  read  the  added 
sentence  aloud. 

"We  will  now  sign,"  said  the  mother. 

The  volume  of  voice  which  Madame  Evangelista 
repressed  as  she  uttered  those  words  betrayed  her  vio- 
lent emotion.  She  was  thinking  to  herself.  "No,  my 
daughter  shall  not  be  ruined  —  but  he !  My  daughter 
shall  have  the  name,  the  title,  and  the  fortune.  If 
she  should  some  day  discover  that  she  does  not  love 
him,  that  she  loves  another,  irresistibly,  Paul  shall  be 
driven  out  of  France!  My  daughter  shall  be  free,  and 
happy,  and  rich." 

If  Maitre  Mathias  understood  how  to  analyze  busi- 
ness interests,  he  knew  little  of  the  analysis  of  human 
passions.  He  accepted  Madame  Evangelista' s  words 
as  an  honorable  amende,  instead  of  judging  them  for 


The  Marriage   Contract.  Ill 

what  they  were,  a  declaration  of  war.  While  Solonet 
and  his  clerk  superintended  Natalie  as  she  signed  the 
documents, —  an  operation  which  took  time,  —  Mathias 
took  Paul  aside  and  told  him  the  meaning  of  the 
stipulation  by  which  he  had  saved  him  from  ultimate 
ruin. 

"The  whole  affair  is  now  en  regie.  I  hold  the  docu- 
ments. But  the  contract  contains  a  receipt  for  the 
diamonds ;  you  must  ask  for  them.  Business  is  busi- 
ness. Diamonds  are  going  up  just  now,  but  may  go 
down.  The  purchase  of  those  new  domains  justifies 
you  in  turning  everything  into  money  that  you  can. 
Therefore,  Monsieur  le  comte,  have  no  false  modesty 
in  this  matter.  The  first  pa3^ment  is  due  after  the 
formalities  are  over.  The  sum  is  two  hundred  thou- 
sand francs;  put  the  diamonds  into  that.  You  have 
the  lien  on  this  house,  which  will  be  sold  at  once,  and 
will  pay  the  rest.  If  you  have  the  courage  to  spend 
only  fifty  thousand  francs  for  the  next  three  years, 
you  can  save  the  two  hundred  thousand  francs  you  are 
now  obliged  to  pay.  If  you  plant  vineyards  on  your 
new  estates,  you  can  get  an  income  of  over  twenty- 
five  thousand  francs  upon  them.  You  may  be  said, 
in  short,  to  have  made  a  good  marriage." 

Paul  pressed  the  hand  of  his  old  friend  very  affec- 
tionately, a  gesture  which  did  not  escape  Madame 
Evangelista,  who  now  came  forward  to  offer  him  the 
pen.  Suspicion  became  certainty  to  her  mind.  She 
was  confident  that  Paul  and  Mathias  had  come  to  an 
understanding  about  her.  Rage  and  hatred  sent  the 
blood  surging  through  her  veins  to  her  heart.  The 
worst  had  come. 


112  The  Marriage   Contract. 

After  verifying  that  all  the  documents  were  duly 
signed  and  the  initials  of  the  parties  affixed  to  the 
bottom  of  the  leaves,  Mattre  Mathias  looked  from 
Paul  to  his  mother-in-law,  and  seeing  that  his  client 
did  not  intend  to  speak  of  the  diamonds,  he  said :  — 

"  I  do  not  suppose  there  can  be  any  doubt  about  the 
transfer  of  the  diamonds,  as  you  are  now  one  family." 

"It  would  be  more  regular  if  Madame  Evangelista 
made  them  over  now,  as  Monsieur  de  Manerville  has 
become  responsible  for  the  guardianship  funds,  and 
we  never  know  who  may  live  or  die,"  said  Solonet, 
who  thought  he  saw  in  this  circumstance  fresh  cause 
of  anger  in  the  mother-in-law  against  the  son-in-law. 

"Ah!  mother,"  cried  Paul,  "it  would  be  insulting 
to  us  all  to  do  that,  —  Summum  jus,  sum-ma  injuria, 
monsieur,"  he  said  to  Solonet. 

"And  I,"  said  Madame  Evangelista,  led  by  the 
hatred  now  surging  in  her  heart  to  see  a  direct  insult 
to  her  in  the  indirect  appeal  of  Maitre  Mathias,  "1 
will  tear  that  contract  up  if  you  do  not  take  them." 

She  left  the  room  in  one  of  those  furious  passions 
which  long  for  the  power  to  destroy  everything, 
and  which  the  sense  of  impotence  drives  almost  to 
madness. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  take  them,  Paul,"  whispered 
Natalie  in  his  ear.  "My  mother  is  angry;  I  shall 
know  why  to-night,  and  I  will  tell  you.  We  must 
pacify  her." 

Calmed  by  this  first  outburst,  madame  kept  the 
necklace  and  ear-rings  which  she  was  wearing,  and 
brought  the  other  jewels,  valued  at  one  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  francs  by  Elie  Magus.     Accustomed  to 


The  Marriage    Contract.  113 

the  sight  of  family  diamonds  in  all  valuations  of 
inheritance,  Maitre  Mathias  and  Solonet  examined 
these  jewels  in  their  cases  and  exclaimed  upon  their 
beauty. 

"  You  will  lose  nothing,  after  all,  upon  the  dot, 
Monsieur  le  comte,"  said  Solonet,  bringing  the  color 
to  Paul's  face. 

"Yes,"  said  Mathias,  "these  jewels  will  meet  the 
first  payment  on  the  purchase  of  the  new  estate." 

"And  the  costs  of  the  contract,"  added  Solonet. 

Hatred  feeds,  like  love,  on  little  things;  the  least 
thing  strengthens  it;  as  one  beloved  can  do  no  evil, 
so  the  person  hated  can  do  no  good.  Madame  Evan- 
gelista  assigned  to  hypocrisy  the  natural  embarrass- 
ment of  Paul,  who  was  unwilling  to  take  the  jewels, 
and  not  knowing  where  to  put  the  cases,  longed  to 
fling  them  from  the  window.  Madame  Evangelista 
spurred   him   with   a   glance   which    seemed    to   say, 

Take  your  property  from  here." 
Dear  Natalie,"  said  Paul,  "put  away  these  jewels; 
they  are  yours;  I  give  them  to  you." 

Natalie  locked  them  into  the  drawer  of  a  console. 
At  this  instant  the  noise  of  the  carriages  in  the  court- 
yard and  the  murmur  of  voices  in  the  reception-rooms 
became  so  loud  that  Natalie  and  her  mother  were 
forced  to  appear.  The  salons  were  filled  in  a  few 
moments,  and  the  fete  began. 

"Profit  by  the  honeymoon  to  sell  those  diamonds," 
said  the  old  notary  to  Paul  as  he  went  away. 

While  waiting  for  the  dancing  to  begin,  whispers 
went  round  about  the  marriage,  and  doubts  were 
expressed  as  to  the  future  of  the  promised  couple. 

8 


114  The  Marriage    Contract. 


a 


Is  it  finally  arranged  ?  '  said  one  of  the  leading 
personages  of  the  town  to  Madame  Evangelista. 

"We  had  so  many  documents  to  read  and  sign  that 
I  fear  we  are  rather  late,"  she  replied;  "but  perhaps 
we  are  excusable." 

4 'As  for  me,  I  heard  nothing,"  said  Natalie,  giving 
her  hand  to  her  lover  to  open  the  ball. 

"  Both  of  those  young  persons  are  extravagant,  and 
the  mother  is  not  of  a  kind  to  check  them,"  said  a 
dowager. 

"But  they  have  founded  an  entail,  I  am  told,  worth 
fifty  thousand  francs  a  year." 

"Pooh!" 

"In  that  I  see  the  hand  of  our  worthy  Monsieur 
Mathias,"  said  a  magistrate.  "If  it  is  really  true,  he 
has  done  it  to  save  the  future  of  the  family." 

"Natalie  is  too  handsome  not  to  be  horribly  coquet- 
tish. After  a  couple  of  years  of  marriage,"  said  one 
young  woman,  "I  wouldn't  answer  for  Monsieur  de 
Manerville's  happiness  in  his  home." 

"The  Pink  of  Fashion  will  then  need  staking,"  said 
Solonet,  laughing. 

4 'Don't  you  think  Madame  Evangelista  looks 
annoyed?"  asked  another. 

44  But,  my  dear,  I  have  just  been  told  that  all  she  is 
able  to  keep  is  twenty- five  thousand  francs  a  year,  and 
what  is  that  to  her?  " 

4 'Penury!" 

44  Yes,  she  has  robbed  herself  for  Natalie.  Monsieur 
de  Manerville  has  been  so  exacting  —  " 

"Extremely  exacting,"  put  in  Maitre  Solonet.  "But 
before  long  he  will  be  peer  of  France.     The  Maulin- 


The  Marriage   Contract,  115 

cours  and  the  Vidame  de  Pamiers  will  use  their  influ- 
ence.    He  belongs  to  the  faubourg  Saint-Germain." 

"Oh!  he  is  received  there,  and  that  is  all,"  said  a 
lady,  who  had  tried  to  obtain  him  as  a  son-in-law. 
"Mademoiselle  Evangelista,  as  the  daughter  of  a  mer- 
chant, will  certainly  not  open  the  doors  of  the  chapter- 
house of  Cologne  to  him !  " 

"She  is  grand-niece  to  the  Duke  of  Casa-Reale." 

"Through  the  female  line!  " 

The  topic  was  presently  exhausted.  The  card- 
players  went  to  the  tables,  the  young  people  danced, 
the  supper  was  served,  and  the  ball  was  not  over  till 
morning,  when  the  first  gleams  of  the  coming  day 
whitened  the  windows. 

Having  said  adieu  to  Paul,  who  was  the  last  to  go 
away,  Madame  Evangelista  went  to  her  daughter's 
room ;  for  her  own  had  been  taken  by  the  architect  to 
enlarge  the  scene  of  the  fete.  Though  Natalie  and 
her  mother  were  overcome  with  sleep,  they  said  a  few 
words  to  each  other  as  soon  as  they  were  alone. 

"  Tell  me,  mother  dear,  what  was  the  matter  with  you  ?" 

"My  darling,  I  learned  this  evening  to  what  lengths 
a  mother's  tenderness  can  go.  You  know  nothing  of 
business,  and  you  are  ignorant  of  the  suspicions  to 
which  my  integrity  has  been  exposed.  I  have  trampled 
my  pride  under  foot,  for  your  happiness  and  my 
reputation  were  at  stake." 

"Are  you  talking  of  the  diamonds?  Poor  boy,  he- 
wept;  he  did  not  want  them;  I  have  them." 

"Sleep  now,  my  child.  We  will  talk  business  when 
we  wake  —  for,"  she  added,  sighing,  "you  and  I  have 
business  now;  another  person  has  come  between  us." 


116  The  Marriage   Contract. 

4 'Ah!  my  dear  mother,  Paul  will  never  be  an 
obstacle  to  our  happiness,  yours  and  mine,"  murmured 
Natalie,  as  she  went  to  sleep. 

"Poor  darling!  she  little  knows  that  the  man  has 
ruined  her." 

Madame  ^vangelista's  soul  was  seized  at  that 
moment  with  the  first  idea  of  avarice,  a  vice  to  which 
many  become  a  prey  as  they  grow  aged.  It  came 
into  her  mind  to  recover  in  her  daughter's  interest  the 
whole  of  the  property  left  by  her  husband.  She  told 
herself  that  her  honor  demanded  it.  Her  devotion  to 
Natalie  made  her,  in  a  moment,  as  shrewd  and  calcu- 
lating as  she  had  hitherto  been  careless  and  wasteful. 
She  resolved  to  turn  her  capital  to  account,  after 
investing  a  part  of  it  in  the  Funds,  which  were  then 
selling  at  eighty  francs.  A  passion  often  changes  the 
whole  character  in  a  moment;  an  indiscreet  person 
becomes  a  diplomatist,  a  coward  is  suddenly  brave. 
Hate  made  this  prodigal  woman  a  miser.  Chance 
and  luck  might  serve  the  project  of  vengeance,  still 
undefined  and  confused,  which  she  would  now  mature 
in  her  mind.  She  fell  asleep,  muttering  to  herself, 
"  To-morrow ! '  By  an  unexplained  phenomenon,  the 
effects  of  which  are  familiar  to  all  thinkers,  her  mind, 
during  sleep,  marshalled  its  ideas,  enlightened  them, 
classed  them,  prepared  a  means  by  which  she  was  to 
rule  Paul's  life,  and  showed  her  a  plan  which  she 
began  to  carry  out  on  that  very  to-morrow. 


The  Marriage   Contract.  117 


V. 

THE    MARRIAGE    CONTRACT — THIRD    DAY. 

Though  the  excitement  of  the  fete  had  driven  from 
Paul's  mind  the  anxious  thoughts  that  now  and  then 
assailed  it,  when  he  was  alone  with  himself  and  in  his 
bed  they  returned  to  torment  him. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  he  said  to  himself,  "that  with- 
out that  good  Mathias  my  mother-in-law  would  have 
tricked  me.  And  yet,  is  that  believable?  What 
interest  could  lead  her  to  deceive  me?  Are  we  not 
to  join  fortunes  and  live  together?  Well,  well,  why 
should  I  worry  about  it?  In  two  days  Natalie  will 
be  my  wife,  our  money  relations  are  plainly  defined, 
nothing  can  come  between  us.  Vogue  la  galere !  — 
Nevertheless,  I  '11  be  upon  my  guard.  Suppose 
Mathias  was  right?  Well,  if  he  was,  I  'm  not  obliged 
to  marry  my  mother-in-law." 

In  this  second  battle  of  the  contract  Paul's  future 
had  completely  changed  in  aspect,  though  he  was  not 
aware  of  it.  Of  the  two  persons  whom  he  was  marry- 
ing, one,  the  cleverest,  was  now  his  mortal  enemy,  and 
meditated  already  withdrawing  her  interests  from  the 
common  fund.  Incapable  of  observing  the  difference 
that  a  Creole  nature  placed  between  his  mother-in-law 
and  other  women,  Paul  was  far  from  suspecting  her 
craftiness.     The  Creole  nature  is  apart  from  all  others ; 


118  The  Marriage    Contract. 

it  derives  from  Europe  by  its  intellect,  from  the 
tropics  by  the  illogical  violence  of  its  passions,  from 
the  East  by  the  apathetic  indifference  with  which  it 
does,  or  suffers,  either  good  or  evil,  equally,  —  a  grace- 
ful nature  withal,  but  dangerous,  as  a  child  is  danger- 
ous if  not  watched.  Like  a  child,  the  Creole  woman 
must  have  her  way  immediately;  like  a  child,  she 
would  burn  a  house  to  boil  an  egg.  In  her  soft  and 
easy  life  she  takes  no  care  upon  her  mind;  but  when 
impassioned,  she  thinks  of  all  things.  She  has  some- 
thing of  the  perfidy  of  the  negroes  by  whom  she  has 
been  surrounded  from  her  cradle,  but  she  is  also  as 
naive  and  even,  at  times,  as  artless  as  they.  Like 
them  and  like  the  children,  she  wishes  doggedly  for 
one  thing  with  a  growing  intensity  of  desire,  and  will 
brood  upon  that  "idea  until  she  hatches  it.  A  strange 
assemblage  of  virtues  and  defects !  which  her  Spanish 
nature  had  strengthened  in  Madame  Evangelista,  and 
over  which  her  French  experience  had  cast  the  glaze 
of  its  politeness. 

This  character,  slumbering  in  married  happiness 
for  sixteen  years,  occupied  since  then  with  the  trivial- 
ities of  social  life,  this  nature  to  which  a  first  hatred 
had  revealed  its  strength,  awoke  now  like  a  conflagra- 
tion;  at  the  moment  of  the  woman's  life  when  she  was 
losing  the  dearest  object  of  her  affections  and  needed 
another  element  for  the  energy  that  possessed  her,  this 
flame  burst  forth.  Natalie  could  be  but  three  days 
more  beneath  her  influence!  Madame  Evangelista, 
vanquished  at  other  points,  had  one  clear  day  before 
her,  the  last  of  those  that  a  daughter  spends  beside 
her  mother.     A  few  words,  and  the  Creole  nature  could 


The  Marriage    Contract.  119 

influence  the  lives  of  the  two  beings  about  to  walk 
together  through  the  brambled  paths  and  the  dusty 
high-roads  of  Parisian  society,  for  Natalie  believed  in 
her  mother  blindly.  What  far-reaching  power  would 
the  counsel  of  that  Creole  nature  have  on  a  mind  so 
subservient!  The  whole  future  of  these  lives  might  be 
determined  by  one  single  speech.  No  code,  no  human 
institution  can  prevent  the  crime  that  kills  by  words. 
There  lies  the  weakness  of  social  law ;  in  that  is  the 
difference  between  the  morals  of  the  great  world  and 
the  morals  of  the  people:  one  is  frank,  the  other 
hypocritical;  one  employs  the  knife,  the  other  the 
venom  of  ideas  and  lauguage;  to  one  death,  to  the 
other  impunity. 

The  next  morning,  about  mid-day,  Madame  Evan- 
gelista  was  half  seated,  half  lying  on  the  edge  of 
her  daughter's  bed.  During  that  waking  hour  they 
caressed  and  played  together  in  happy  memory  of 
their  loving  life;  a  life  in  which  no  discord  had  ever 
troubled  either  the  harmony  of  their  feelings,  the 
agreement  of  their  ideas,  or  the  mutual  choice  and 
enjoyment  of  their  pleasures. 

"Poor  little  darling!"  said  the  mother,  shedding 
true  tears,  "how  can  I  help  being  sorrowful  when  I 
think  that  after  I  have  fulfilled  your  every  wish  during 
your  whole  life  you  will  belong,  to-morrow  night,  to  a 
man  you  must  obey?  " 

"Oh,  my  dear  mother,  as  for  obeying!  —  "and 
Natalie  made  a  little  motion  of  her  head  which  ex- 
pressed a  graceful  rebellion.  "You  are  joking,"  she 
continued.  "My  father  always  gratified  your  caprices ; 
and  why  not?  he  loved  you.     And  I  am  loved,  too." 


120  The  Marriage    Contract. 


a- 


Yes,  Paul  has  a  certain  love  for  you.  But  if  a 
married  woman  is  not  careful  nothing  more  rapidly 
evaporates  than  conjugal  love.  The  influence  a  wife 
ought  to  have  over  her  husband  depends  entirely  on 
how  she  begins  with  him.     You  need  the  best  advice." 

"But  you  will  be  with  us." 

"Possibly,  dear  child.  Last  night,  while  the  ball 
was  going  on,  I  reflected  on  the  dangers  of  our  being 
together.  If  my  presence  were  to  do  you  harm,  if  the 
little  acts  by  which  you  ought  slowly,  but  surely,  to 
establish  your  authority  as  a  wife  should  be  attributed 
to  my  influence,  your  home  would  become  a  hell.  At 
the  first  frown  I  saw  upon  your  husband's  brow  I, 
proud  as  I  am,  should  instantly  leave  his  house.  If 
I  were  driven  to  leave  it,  better,  I  think,  not  to  enter 
it.  I  should  never  forgive  your  husband  if  he  caused 
trouble  between  us.  Whereas,  when  you  have  once 
become  the  mistress,  when  your  husband  is  to  you 
what  your  father  was  to  me,  that  danger  is  no  longer 
to  be  feared.  Though  this  wise  policy  will  cost  your 
young  and  tender  heart  a  pang,  your  happiness  de- 
mands that  you  become  the  absolute  sovereign  of  your 
home." 

"  Then  why,  mamma,  did  you  say  just  now  I  must 
obey  him." 

"My  dear  little  daughter,  in  order  that  a  wife  may 
rule,  she  must  always  seem  to  do  what  her  husband 
wishes.  If  you  were  not  told  this  you  might  by  some 
impulsive  opposition  destroy  your  future.  Paul  is  a 
weak  young  man;  he  might  allow  a  friend  to  rule 
him;  he  might  even  fall  under  the  dominion  of  some 
woman  who  would  make  you  feel  her  influence.     Pre- 


The  Marriage   Contract.  121 

vent  such  disasters  by  making  yourself  from  the  very 
start  his  ruler.  Is  it  not  better  that  he  be  governed 
by  you  than  by  others  ?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  said  Natalie.  "I  should  think 
only  of  his  happiness." 

"  And  it  is  my  privilege,  darling,  to  think  only  of 
yours,  and  to  wish  not  to  leave  you  at  so  crucial  a 
moment  without  a  compass  in  the  midst  of  the  reefs 
through  which  you  must  steer." 

"But,  dearest  mother,  are  we  not  strong  enough, 
you  and  I,  to  stay  together  beside  him,  without  hav- 
ing to  fear  those  frowns  you  seem  to  dread.  Paul 
loves  you,  mamma." 

"Oh!  oh!  He  fears  me  far  more  than  be  loves  me. 
Observe  him  carefully  to-day  when  I  tell  him  that  I 
shall  let  you  go  to  Paris  without  me,  and  you  will  see 
on  his  face,  no  matter  what  pains  he  takes  to  conceal 
it,  his  inward  joy." 

"Why  should  he  feel  so?" 

"Why?  Dear  child!  I  am  like  Saint-Jean  Bouche- 
d'Or.     I  will  tell  that  to  himself,  and  before  you." 

"But  suppose  I  marry  on  condition  that  you  do  not 
leave  me?"  urged  Natalie. 

"Our  separation  is  necessary,"  replied  her  mother. 
"Several  considerations  have  greatly  changed  my 
future.  I  am  now  poor.  You  will  lead  a  brilliant 
life  in  Paris,  and  I  could  not  live  with  you  suitably 
without  spending  the  little  that  remains  to  me. 
Whereas,  if  I  go  to  Lanstrac,  I  can  take  care  of  your 
property  there  and  restore  my  fortune  by  economy." 

"You,  mamma!  you  practise  economy!  "  cried 
Natalie,    laughing.     "Don't    begin    to    be    a    grand- 


122  The  Marriage   Contract. 

mother  yet.  What!  do  you  mean  to  leave  me  for 
such  reasons  as  those?  Dear  mother,  Paul  may  seem 
to  you  a  trifle  stupid,  but  he  is  not  one  atom  selfish 
or  grasping." 

uAh!"  replied  Madame  ^Ivangelista,  in  a  tone  of 
voice  big  with  suggestions  which  made  the  girl's  heart 
throb,  "those  discussions  about  the  contract  have 
made  me  distrustful.  I  have  my  doubts  about  him  — 
But  don't  be  troubled,  dear  child,"  she  added,  taking 
her  daughter  by  the  neck  and  kissing  her.  "I  will 
not  leave  you  long  alone.  Whenever  my  return  can 
take  place  without  making  difficulty  between  you, 
whenever  Paul  can  rightly  judge  me,  we  will  begin 
once  more  our  happy  little  life,  our  evening  con- 
fidences —  " 

"Oh!  mother,  how  can  you  think  of  living  without 
your  Natalie?  " 

"Because,  dear  angel,  I  shall  live  for  her.  My 
mother's  heart  will  be  satisfied  in  the  thought  that  I 
contribute,  as  I  ought,  to  your  future  happiness." 

"But  my  dear,  adorable  mother,  must  I  be  alone 
with  Paul,  here,  now,  all  at  once  ?  What  will  become 
of  me?  what  will  happen?  what  must  I  do?  what  must 
I  not  do  ?  " 

"Poor  child!  do  you  think  that  I  would  utterly 
abandon  you  to  your  first  battle?  We  will  write  to 
each  other  three  times  a  week  like  lovers.  We  shall 
thus  be  close  to  each  other's  heart  incessantly.  Noth- 
ing can  happen  to  you  that  I  shall  not  know,  and  I 
can  save  you  from  all  misfortune.  Besides,  it  would 
be  too  ridiculous  if  I  never  went  to  see  you ;  it  would 
seem  to  show  dislike  or  disrespect  to  your  husband ; 


The  Marriage   Contract.  123 

I  will  always  spend  a  month  or  two  every  year  with 
you  in  Paris." 

"Alone,  already  alone,  and  with  him!  "  cried  Natalie 
in  terror,  interrupting  her  mother. 

"But  you  wish  to  be  his  wife?  " 

"Yes,  I  wish  it.  But  tell  me  how  I  should  behave, 
—  you,  who  did  what  you  pleased  with  my  father.  You 
know  the  way;  I  '11  obey  you  blindly." 

Madame  Evangelista  kissed  her  daughter's  fore- 
head.    She  had  willed  and  awaited  this  request. 

"Child,  my  counsels  must  adapt  themselves  to  cir- 
cumstances. All  men  are  not  alike.  The  lion  and 
tne  frog  are  not  more  unlike  than  one  man  compared 
with  another,  —  morally,  I  mean.  Do  I  know  to-day 
what  will  happen  to  you  to-morrow  ?  No ;  therefore  I 
can  only  give  you  general  advice  upon  the  whole  tenor 
of  your  conduct." 

"Dear  mother,  tell  me,  quick,  all  that  you  know 
yourself." 

"In  the  first  place,  my  dear  child,  the  cause  of  the 
failure  of  married  women  who  desire  to  keep  their 
husbands'  hearts  —  and  "  she  said,  making  a  paren- 
thesis, "to  keep  their  hearts  and  rule  them  is  one  and 
the  same  thing  —  Well,  the  principle  cause  of  con- 
jugal disunion  is  to  be  found  in  perpetual  inter- 
course, which  never  existed  in  the  olden  time,  but 
which  has  been  introduced  into  this  country  of  late 
years  with  the  mania  for  family.  Since  the  Revolu- 
tion the  manners  and  customs  of  the  bourgeoisie  have 
invaded  the  homes  of  aristocracy.  This  misfortune 
is  due  to  one  of  their  writers,  Rousseau,  an  infamous 
heretic,  whose  ideas  were  all  anti- social  and  who  pre- 


124  The  Marriage   Contract. 

tended,  I  don't  know  how,  to  justify  the  most  senseless 
things.     He  declared  that  all  women   had  the  same 
rights  and  the  same  faculties;  that  living  in  a  state 
of  society  we  ought,  nevertheless,  to  obey  nature  —  as 
if  the  wife  of  a  Spanish  grandee,  as  if  you  or  I  had 
anything  in  common  with  the  women  of  the  people ! 
Since  then,  well-bred  women  have  suckled  their  chil- 
dren, have  educated  their  daughters,   and  stayed  in 
their  own  homes.     Life  has  become  so  involved  that 
happiness  is  almost  impossible,  —  for  a  perfect  har- 
mony between  natures  such  as  that  which  has  made 
you  and  me  live  as  two  friends  is  an  exception.     Per- 
petual contact  is  as  dangerous  for  parents  and  children 
as  it  is  for  husband  and  wife.     There  are  few  souls  in 
which  love  survives  this  fatal  omnipresence.     There- 
fore, I  say,  erect  between  yourself  and  Paul  the  bar- 
riers of  society;   go  to  balls  and  operas;  go  out  in 
the  morning,  dine  out  in  the  evenings,  pay  visits  con- 
stantly,  and   grant   but  little  of   your   time  to   your 
husband.     By  this  means  you  will  always  keep  your 
value  to  him.     When  two  beings  bound  together  for 
life   have   nothing    to   live   upon   but   sentiment,    its 
resources   are  soon    exhausted,    indifference,    satiety, 
and  disgust  succeed.     When  sentiment  has  withered 
what  will  become  of  you  ?     Remember,  affection  once 
extinguished  can  lead  to  nothing  but  indifference  or 
contempt.     Be  ever  young  and  ever  new  to  him.     He 
may  weary  you,  —  that  often  happens,  —  but  you  must 
never  weary  him.     The  faculty  of  being  bored  with- 
out showing  it  is  a  condition  of  all  species  of  power. 
You  cannot  diversify  happiness  by  the  cares  of  prop- 
erty or  the  occupations  of  a  family.     If  you  do  not 


The  Marriage  Contract.  125 

make  your  husband  share  your  social  interests,  if  you 
do  not  keep  him  amused  you  will  fall  into  a  dismal 
apathy.  Then  begins  the  spleen  of  love.  But  a  man 
will  always  love  the  woman  who  amuses  him  and  keeps 
him  happy.  To  give  happiness  and  to  receive  it  are 
two  lines  of  feminine  conduct  which  are  separated  by 
a  gulf." 

"Dear  mother,  I  am  listening  to  you,  but  I  don't 
understand  one  word  you  say." 

"If  you  love  Paul  to  the  extent  of  doing  all  he  asks 
of  you,  if  you  make  your  happiness  depend  on  him, 
all  is  over  with  your  future  life;  you  will  never  be 
mistress  of  your  home,  and  the  best  precepts  in  the 
world  will  do  you  no  good." 

"That  is  plainer;  but  I  see  the  rule  without  know- 
ing how  to  apply  it,"  said  Natalie,  laughing.  "I  have 
the  theory;  the  practice  will  come." 

"My  poor  Ninie,"  replied  the  mother,  who  dropped 
an  honest  tear  at  the  thought  of  her  daughter's  mar- 
riage, things  will  happen  to  teach  it  to  you —  And," 
she  continued,  after  a  pause,  during  which  the  mother 
and  daughter  held  each  other  closely  embraced  in  the 
truest  sympathy,  "remember  this,  my  Natalie:  we  all 
have  our  destiny  as  women,  just  as  men  have  their 
vocation  as  men.  A  woman  is  born  to  be  a  woman 
of  the  world  and  a  charming  hostess,  as  a  man  is  born 
to  be  a  general  or  a  poet.  Your  vocation  is  to  please. 
Your  education  has  formed  you  for  society.  In  these 
days  women  should  be  educated  for  the  salon  as  they 
once  were  for  the  gynoecium.  You  were  not  born  to 
be  the  mother  of  a  family  or  the  steward  of  a  house- 
hold.    If  you  have  children,  I  hope  they  wili  not  come 


126  The  Marriage   Contract. 

to  spoil  your  figure  on  the  morrow  of  your  marriage ; 
notbiug  is  so  bourgeois  as  to  have  a  child  at  once.  If 
you  have  them  two  or  three  years  after  your  marriage, 
well  and  good ;  governesses  and  tutors  will  bring  them 
up.  You  are  to  be  the  lady,  the  great  lady,  who  rep- 
resents the  luxury  and  the  pleasure  of  the  house.  But 
remember  one  thing  —  let  your  superiority  be  visible 
in  those  things  only  which  flatter  a  man's  self-love; 
hide  the  superiority  you  must  also  acquire  over  him 
in  great  things. 

"But  }tou  frighten  me,  mamma,"  cried  Natalie. 
"How  can  I  remember  all  these  precepts?  How  shall 
1  ever  manage,  I,  such  a  child,  and  so  heedless,  to 
reflect  and  calculate  before  I  act?" 

"But,  my  dear  little  girl,  I  am  telling  you  to-day 
that  which  you  must  surely  learn  later,  buying  your 
experience  by  fatal  faults  and  errors  of  conduct  which 
will  cause  you  bitter  regrets  and  embarrass  your  whole 
life." 

uBut  how  must  I  begin?"  asked  Natalie,  artlessly. 

"Instinct  will  guide  you,"  replied  her  mother.  "At 
this  moment  Paul  desires  you  more  than  he  loves  you ; 
for  love  born  of  desires  is  a  hope ;  the  love  that  suc- 
ceeds their  satisfaction  is  the  reality.  There,  my 
dear,  is  the  question;  there  lies  your  power.  What 
woman  is  not  loved  before  marriage?  Be  so  on  the 
morrow  and  you  will  remain  so  always.  Paul  is  a 
weak  man  who  is  easily  trained  to  habit.  If  he  yields 
to  you  once  he  will  yield  always.  A  woman  ardently 
desired  can  ask  all  things ;  do  not  commit  the  folly  of 
many  women  who  do  not  see  the  importance  of  the 
first  hours  of  their  sway,  —  that  of  wasting  your  power 


The  Marriage   Contract.  127 

on  trifles,  on  silly  things  with  no  result.  Use  the 
empire  your  husband's  first  emotions  give  you  to 
accustom  him  to  obedience.  And  when  you  make  him 
yield,  choose  that  it  be  on  some  unreasonable  point, 
so  as  to  test  the  measure  of  your  power  by  the  measure 
of  his  concession.  What  victory  would  there  be  in 
making  him  agree  to  a  reasonable  thing?  Would  that 
be  obeying  you?  We  must  always,  as  the  Castilian 
proverb  says,  take  the  bull  by  the  horns ;  when  a  bull 
has  once  seen  the  inutility  of  his  defence  and  of  his 
strength  he  is  beaten.  When  your  husband  does  a 
foolish  thing  for  you,  you  can  govern  him." 

"Why  so?" 

"Because,  my  child,  marriage  lasts  a  lifetime,  and 
a  husband  is  not  a  man  like  other  men.  Therefore, 
never  commit  the  folly  of  giving  yourself  into  his 
power  in  anything.  Keep  up  a  constant  reserve  in 
your  speech  and  in  your  actions.  You  may  even  be 
cold  to  him  without  danger,  for  you  can  modify  cold- 
ness at  will.  Besides,  nothing  is  more  easy  to  maintain 
than  our  dignity.  The  words,  "It  is  not  becoming 
in  your  wife  to  do  thus  and  so,"  is  a  great  talisman. 
The  life  of  a  woman  lies  in  the  words,  "I  will  not." 
They  are  the  final  argument.  Feminine  power  is  in 
them,  and  therefore  they  should  only  be  used  on  real 
occasions.  But  they  constitute  a  means  of  governing 
far  beyond  that  of  argument  or  discussion.  I,  my  dear 
child,  reigned  over  your  father  by  his  faith  in  me.  If 
your  husband  believes  in  you,  you  can  do  all  things  with 
him.  To  inspire  that  belief  you  must  make  him  think 
that  you  understand  him.  Do  not  suppose  that  that 
is  an  easy  thing  to  do.     A  woman  can  always  make  a 


128  The  Marriage    Contract. 

man  think  that  he  is  loved,  but  to  make  him  admit 
that  he  is  understood  is  far  more  difficult.  I  am 
bound  to  tell  you  all  now,  my  child,  for  to-morrow 
life  with  its  complications,  life  with  two  wills  which 
must  be  made- one,  begins  for  you.  Bear  in  mind,  at 
all  moments,  that  difficulty.  The  only  means  of  har- 
monizing your  two  wills  is  to  arrange  from  the  first 
that  there  shall  be  but  one;  and  that  will  must  be 
yours.  Many  persons  declare  that  a  wife  creates  her 
own  unhappiness  by  changing  sides  in  this  way;  but, 
my  dear,  she  can  only  become  the  mistress  by  controlling 
events  instead  of  bearing  them;  and  that  advantage 
compensates  for  any  difficulty." 

Natalie  kissed  her  mother's  hands  with  tears  of 
gratitude.  Like  all  women  in  whom  mental  emotion 
is  never  warmed  by  physical  emotion,  she  suddenly 
comprehended  the  bearings  of  this  feminine  policy; 
but,  like  a  spoiled  child  that  never  admits  the  force 
of  reason  and  returns  obstinately  to  its  one  desire,  she 
came  back  to  the  charge  with  one  of  those  personal 
arguments  which  the  logic  of  a  child  suggests :  — 

"Dear  mamma,"  she  said,  "it  is  only  a  few  days 
since  you  were  talking  of  Paul's  advancement,  and 
saying  that  you  alone  could  promote  it;  why,  then,  do 
you  suddenly  turn  round  and  abandon  us  to  our- 
selves? " 

"I  did  not  then  know  the  extent  of  my  obligations 
nor  the  amount  of  my  debts,"  replied  the  mother,  who 
would  not  suffer  her  real  motive  to  be  seen.  "Besides, 
a  year  or  two  hence  I  can  take  up  that  matter  again. 
Come,  let  us  dress;  Paul  will  be  here  soon.  Be  as 
sweet  and  caressing  as  you  were,  — you  know?  —  that 


The  Marriage   Contract.  129 

night  when  we  first  discussed  this  fatal  contract;  for 
to-day  we  must  save  the  last  fragments  of  our  for- 
tune, and  I  must  win  for  you  a  thing  to  which  I  am 
superstitiously  attached." 

"What  is  it?" 

"The  Discrete." 

Paul  arrived  about  four  o'clock.  Though  he  en- 
deavored to  meet  his  mother-in-law  with  a  gracious 
look  upon  his  face,  Madame  Evangelista  saw  traces 
of  the  clouds  which  the  counsels  of  the  night  and  the 
reflections  of  the  morning  had  brought  there. 

"Mathias  has  told  him!  "  she  thought,  resolving  to 
defeat  the  old  notary's  action.  "My  dear  son,"  she 
said,  "you  left  your  diamonds  in  the  drawer  of  the 
console,  and  I  frankly  confess  that  I  would  rather  not 
see  a°;am  the  things  that  threatened  to  bring;  a  cloud 
between  us.  Besides,  as  Monsieur  Mathias  said,  they 
ought  to  be  sold  at  once  to  meet  the  first  payment  on 
the  estates  you  have  purchased." 

"They  are  not  mine,"  he  said.  "I  have  given  them 
to  Natalie,  and  when  you  see  them  upon  her  you  will 
forget  the  pain  they  caused  you." 

Madame  Evangelista  took  his  hand  and  pressed  it 
cordially,  with  a  tear  of  emotion. 

"Listen  to  me,  my  dear  children,"  she  said,  looking 
from  Paul  to  Natalie;  "since  you  really  feel  thus,  I 
have  a  proposition  to  make  to  both  of  you.  I  find 
myself  obliged  to  sell  my  pearl  necklace  and  my  ear- 
rings. Yes,  Paul,  it  is  necessary ;  I  do  not  choose  to 
put  a  penny  of  my  fortune  into  an  annuity;  I  know 
what  I  owe  to  you.  Well,  I  admit  a  weakness;  to 
sell  the  Discreto  seems  to  me  a  disaster.     To  sell  a 

9 


130  The  Marriage   Contract. 

diamond  which  bears  the  name  of  Philip  the  Second 
and  once  adorned  his  royal  hand,  an  historic  stone 
which  the  Duke  of  Alba  touched  for  ten  years  in  the 
hilt  of  his  sword  —  no,  no,  I  cannot!  Elie  Magus 
estimates  my  necklace  and  ear-rings  at  a  hundred  and 
some  odd  thousand  francs  without  the  clasps.  Will 
you  exchange  the  other  jewels  I  made  over  to  you  for 
these?  you  will  gain  by  the  transaction,  but  what  of 
that?  I  am  not  selfish.  Instead  of  those  mere  fancy 
jewels,  Paul,  your  wife  will  have  fine  diamonds  which 
she  can  really  enjoy.  Is  n't  it  better  that  I  should  sell 
those  ornaments  which  will  surely  go  out  of  fashion, 
and  that  you  should  keep  in  the  family  these  priceless 
stones?" 

"But,  my  dear  mother,  consider  yourself,"  said 
Paul. 

"I,"  replied  Madame  Evangelista,  "I  want  such 
things  no  longer.  Yes,  Paul,  I  am  going  to  be  your 
bailiff  at  Lanstrac.  It  would  be  folly  in  me  to  go 
to  Paris  at  the  moment  when  I  ought  to  be  here  to 
liquidate  my  property  and  settle  my  affairs.  I  shall 
grow  miserly  for  my  grandchildren." 

"Dear  mother,"  said  Paul,  much  moved,  "ought  I 
to  accept  this  exchange  without  paying  you  the 
difference?  " 

i 

"Good  heavens!  are  you  not,  both  of  you,  my 
dearest  interests?  Do  you  suppose  I  shall  not  find 
happiness  in  thinking,  as  I  sit  in  my  chimney-corner, 
'Natalie  is  dazzling  to-night  at  the  Duchesse  de 
Berry's  ball'?  When  she  sees  my  diamond  at  her 
throat  and  my  ear-rings  in  her  ears  she  will  have  one 
of  those  little  enjoyments  of  vanity  which  contribute 


The  Marriage   Contract.  131 

so  much  to  a  woman's  happiness  and  make  her  so  gay 
and  fascinating.  Nothing  saddens  a  woman  more 
than  to  have  her  vanity  repressed ;  I  have  never  seen 
an  ill-dressed  woman  who  was  amiable  or  good- 
humored." 

"Heavens!  what  was  Mathias  thinking  about?" 
thought  Paul.  "Well,  then,  mamma,"  he  said,  in  a 
low  voice,  "I  accept." 

"But  I  am  confounded!  "  said  Natalie. 

At  this  moment  Solonet  arrived  to  announce  the 
good  news  that  he  had  found  among  the  speculators 
of  Bordeaux  two  contractors  who  were  much  attracted 
by  the  house,  the  gardens  of  which  could  be  covered 
with  dwellings. 

"They  offer  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs," 
he  said;  "but  if  you  consent  to  the  sale,  I  can  make 
them  give  you  three  hundred  thousand.  There  are 
three  acres  of  land  in  the  garden." 

"My  husband  paid  two  hundred  thousand  for  the 
place,  therefore  I  consent,"  she  replied.  "But  you 
must  reserve  the  furniture  and  the  mirrors." 

"Ah!"  said  Solonet,  "you  are  beginning  to  under- 
stand business." 

"Alas!  I  must,"  she  said,  sighing. 

"I  am  told  that  a  great  many  persons  are  coming 
to  your  midnight  service,"  said  Solonet,  perceiving 
that  his  presence  was  inopportune,  and  preparing 
to  go. 

Madame  Evangelista  accompanied  him  to  the  door 
of  the  last  salon,  and  there  she  said,  in  a  low  voice :  — 

"I  now  have  personal  property  to  the  amount  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs;  if  I  can  get  two 


132  The  Marriage    Contract. 

hundred  thousand  for  my  share  on  the  sale  of  the 
house  it  will  make  a  handsome  capital,  which  I  shall 
want  to  invest  to  the  very  best  advantage.  I  count  on 
you  for  that.     I  shall  probably  live  at  Lanstrac." 

The  young  notary  kissed  his  client's  hand  with  a 
gesture  of  gratitude;  for  the  widow's  tone  of  voice 
made  Solonet  fancy  that  this  alliance,  really  made 
from  self-interest  only,  might  extend  a  little  farther. 

"You  can  count  on  me,"  he  replied.  "I  can  find 
you  investments  in  merchandise  on  which  you  will 
risk  nothing  and  make  very  considerable  profits." 

" Adieu  until  to-morrow,"  she  said;  "you  are  to  be 
our  witness,  you  know,  with  Monsieur  le  Marquis  de 
Gyas." 

"My  dear  mother,"  said  Paul,  when  she  returned  to 
them,  "why  do  you  refuse  to  come  to  Paris?  Natalie 
is  provoked  with  me,  as  if  I  were  the  cause  of  your 
decision." 

"I  have  thought  it  all  over,  my  children,  and  I  am 
sure  that  I  should  hamper  you.  You  would  feel 
obliged  to  make  me  a  third  in  all  you  did,  and  young 
people  have  ideas  of  their  own  which  I  might,  unin- 
tentionally, thwart.  Go  to  Paris.  I  do  not  wish  to 
exercise  over  the  Comtesse  de  Manerville  the  gentle 
authority  I  have  held  over  Natalie.  I  desire  to  leave 
her  wholly  to  you.  Don't  you  see,  Paul,  that  there 
are  habits  and  ways  between  us  which  must  be  broken 
up?  My  influence  ought  to  yield  to  yours.  I  want 
you  to  love  me,  and  to  believe  that  I  have  your 
interests  more  at  heart  than  you  think  for.  Young 
husbands  are,  sooner  or  later,  jealous  of  the  love  of  a 
wife  for  her  mother.     Perhaps  they  are  right.     When 


The  Marriage  Contract.  183 

you  are  thoroughly  united,  when  love  has  blended  your 
two  souls  into  one,  then,  my  dear  son,  you  will  not 
fear  an  opposing  influence  if  1  live  in  your  house.  I 
know  the  world,  and  men,  and  things ;  I  have  seen  the 
peace  of  many  a  home  destroyed  by  the  blind  love  of 
mothers  who  made  themselves  in  the  end  as  intolerable 
to  their  daughters  as  to  their  sons-in-law.  The  affec- 
tion of  old  people  is  often  exacting  and  querulous. 
Perhaps  I  could  not  efface  myself  as  I  should.  I  have 
the  weakness  to  think  myself  still  handsome ;  I  have 
flatterers  who  declare  that  I  am  still  agreeable;  I 
should  have,  I  fear,  certain  pretensions  which  might 
interfere  with  your  lives.  Let  me,  therefore,  make 
one  more  sacrifice  for  your  happiness.  I  have  given 
you  my  fortune,  and  now  I  desire  to  resign  to  you  my 
last  vanities  as  a  woman.  Your  notary  Mathias  is 
getting  old.  He  cannot  look  after  your  estates  as  I 
will.  I  will  be  your  bailiff;  I  will  create  for  myself 
those  natural  occupations  which  are  the  pleasures  of 
old  age.  Later,  if  necessary,  I  will  come  to  you  in 
Paris,  and  second  you  in  your  projects  of  ambition. 
Come,  Paul,  be  frank;  my  proposal  suits  you,  does 
it  not?" 

Paul  would  not  admit  it,  but  he  was  at  heart 
delighted  to  get  his  liberty.  The  suspicions  which 
Mathias  had  put  into  his  mind  respecting  his  mother- 
in-law  were,  however,  dissipated  by  this  conversation, 
which  Madame  Evangelista  carried  on  still  longer  in 
the  same  tone. 

"My  mother  was  right,"  thought  Natalie,  who  had 
watched  Paul's  countenance.  "He  is  glad  to  know 
that  I  am  separated  from  her  —  why?" 


134  The  Marriage   Contract. 

That  "why?  "  was  the  first  note  of  a  rising  distrust; 
did  it  prove  the  power  of  those  maternal  instructions? 

There  are  certain  characters  which  on  the  faith  of  a 
single  proof  believe  in  friendship.  To  persons  thus 
constituted  the  north  wind  drives  away  the  clouds  as 
rapidly  as  the  south  wind  brings  them ;  they  stop  at 
effects  and  never  hark  back  to  causes.  Paul  had  one 
of  those  essentially  confiding  natures,  without  ill- 
feelings,  but  also  without  foresight.  His  weakness 
proceeded  far  more  from  his  kindness,  his  belief  in 
goodness,  than  from  actual  debility  of  soul. 

Natalie  was  sad  and  thoughtful,  for  she  knew  not 
what  to  do  without  her  mother.  Paul,  with  that  self- 
confident  conceit  which  comes  of  love,  smiled  to  him- 
self at  her  sadness,  thinking  how  soon  the  pleasures 
of  marriage  and  the  excitements  of  Paris  would  drive 
it  away.  Madame  Evangelista  saw  this  confidence 
with  much  satisfaction.  She  had  already  taken  two 
great  steps.  Her  daughter  possessed  the  diamonds 
which  had  cost  Paul  two  hundred  thousand  francs; 
and  she  had  gained  her  point  of  leaving  these  two 
children  to  themselves  with  no  other  guide  than  their 
illogical  love.  Her  revenge  was  thus  preparing,  un- 
known to  her  daughter,  who  would,  sooner  or  later, 
become  its  accomplice.  Did  Natalie  love  Paul?  That 
was  a  question  still  undecided,  the  answer  to  which 
might  modify  her  projects,  for  she  loved  her  daughter 
too  sincerely  not  to  respect  her  happiness.  Paul's 
future,  therefore,  still  depended  on  himself.  If  he 
could  make  his  wife  love  him,   he  was  saved. 

The  next  day,  at  midnight,  after  an  evening  spent 
together,  with  the  addition  of  the  four  witnesses,  to 


The  Marriage   Contract.  135 

whom  Madame  Evangelista  gave  the  formal  dinner 
which  follows  the  legal  marriage,  the  bridal  pair, 
accompanied  by  their  friends,  heard  mass  by  torch- 
light, in  presence  of  a  crowd  of  inquisitive  persons. 
A  marriage  celebrated  at  night  always  suggests  to  the 
mind  an  unpleasant  omen.  Light  is  the  symbol  of 
life  and  pleasure,  the  forecasts  of  which  are  lacking 
to  a  midnight  wedding.  Ask  the  intrepid  soul  why  it 
shivers;  why  the  chill  of  those  black  arches  ener- 
vates it;  why  the  sound  of  steps  startles  it;  why  it 
notices  the  cry  of  bats  and  the  hoot  of  owls.  Though 
there  is  absolutely  no  reason  to  tremble,  all  present  do 
tremble,  and  the  darkness,  emblem  of  death,  saddens 
them.  Natalie,  parted  from  her  mother,  wept.  The 
girl  was  now  a  prey  to  those  doubts  which  grasp  the 
heart  as  it  enters  a  new  career  in  which,  despite  all 
assurances  of  happiness,  a  thousand  pitfalls  await  the 
steps  of  a  young  wife.  She  was  cold  and  wanted  a 
mantle.  The  air  and  manner  of  Madame  Evangelista 
and  that  of  the  bridal  pair  excited  some  comment 
among  the  elegant  crowd  which  surrounded  the  altar. 

"Solonet  tells  me  that  the  bride  and  bridegroom 
leave  for  Paris  to-morrow  morning,  all  alone." 

"Madame  Evangelista  was  to  live  with  them,  I 
thought." 

"Count  Paul  has  got  rid  of  her  already." 

"What  a  mistake!"  said  the  Marquise  de  Gyas. 
"To  shut  the  door  on  the  mother  of  his  wife  is  to  open 
it  to  a  lover.     Does  n't  he  know  what  a  mother  is?  " 

"He  has  been  very  hard  on  Madame  Evangelista; 
the  poor  woman  has  had  to  sell  her  house  and  her 
diamonds,  and  is  going  to  live  at  Lanstrac." 


136  The  Marriage   Contract. 

"Natalie  looks  very  sad." 

"Would  you  like  to  be  made  to  take  a  journey  the 
day  after  your  marriage  ?  " 

"It  is  very  awkward." 

"I  am  glad  I  came  here  to-night,"  said  a  lady.  "I 
am  now  convinced  of  the  necessity  of  the  pomps  of 
marriage  and  of  wedding  fetes;  a  scene  like  this  is 
very  bare  and  sad.  If  I  may  say  what  I  think,"  she 
added,  in  a  whisper  to  her  neighbor,  "this  marriage 
seems  to  me  indecent." 

Madame  Evangelista  took  Natalie  in  her  carriage 
and  accompanied  her,  alone,  to  Paul's  house. 

"Well,  mother,  it  is  done!  " 

"Remember,  my  dear  child,  my  last  advice,  and 
you  will  be  a  happy  woman.  Be  his  wife,  and  not  his 
mistress." 

When  Natalie  had  retired,  the  mother  played  the 
little  comedy  of  flinging  herself  with  tears  into  the 
arms  of  her  son-in-law.  It  was  the  only  provincial 
thing  that  Madame  Evangelista  allowed  herself,  but 
she  had  her  reasons  for  it.  Amid  tears  and  speeches, 
apparently  half  wild  and  despairing,  she  obtained  of 
Paul  those  concessions  which  all  husbands  make. 

The  next  day  she  put  the  married  pair  into  their 
carriage,  and  accompanied  them  to  the  ferry,  by  which 
the  road  to  Paris  crosses  the  Gironde.  With  a  look 
and  a  word  Natalie  enabled  her  mother  to  see  that  if 
Paul  had  won  the  trick  in  the  game  of  the  contract, 
her  revenge  was  beginning.  Natalie  was  already 
reducing  her  husband  to  perfect  obedience. 


The  Marriage  Contract.  137 


VI. 


CONCLUSION. 


Five  years  later,  on  an  afternoon  in  the  month  of 
November,  Comte  Paul  de  Manerville,  wrapped  in  a 
cloak,  was  entering,  with  a  bowed  head  and  a  mys- 
terious manner,  the  house  of  his  old  friend  Monsieur 
Mathias  at  Bordeaux. 

Too  old  to  continue  in  business,  the  worthy  notary 
had  sold  his  practice  and  was  ending  his  days  peace- 
fully in  a  quiet  house  to  which  he  had  retired.  An 
urgent  affair  had  obliged  him  to  be  absent  at  the 
moment  of  his  guest's  arrival,  but  his  housekeeper, 
warned  of  Paul's  coming,  took  him  to  the  room  of 
the  late  Madame  Mathias,  who  had  been  dead  a  year. 
Fatigued  by  a  rapid  journey,  Paul  slept  till  evening. 
When  the  old  man  reached  home  he  went  up  to  his 
client's  room,  and  watched  him  sleeping,  as  a  mother 
watches  her  child.  Josette,  the  old  housekeeper,  fol- 
lowed her  master  and  stood  before  the  bed,  her  hands 
on  her  hips. 

"It  is  a  year  to-day,  Josette,  since  I  received  my 
dear  wife's  last  sigh;  I  little  knew  then  that  I  should 
stand  here  again  to  see  the  count  half  dead." 

"Poor  man!  he  moans  in  his  sleep,"  said  Josette. 

"Sac  a  papier  !  "  cried  the  old  notary,  an  innocent 
oath  which  was  a  sign  with  him  of  the  despair  on  a 


138  The  Marriage   Contract. 

man  of  business  before  insurmountable  difficulties. 
"At  any  rate,"  he  thought,  "I  have  saved  the  title 
to  the  Lanstrac  estate  for  him,  and  that  of  Ausac, 
Saint-Froult,  and  his  house,  though  the  usufruct  has 
gone."  Mathias  counted  on  his  fingers.  "Five  years! 
Just  live  years  this  month,  since  his  old  aunt,  now 
dead,  that  excellent  Madame  de  Maulincour,  asked  for 
the  hand  of  that  little  crocodile  of  a  woman,  who  has 
finally  ruined  him  —  as  I  expected." 

And  the  gouty  old  gentleman,  leaning  on  his  cane, 
went  to  walk  in  the  little  garden  till  his  guest  should 
awake.  At  nine  o'clock  supper  was  served,  for 
Mathias  took  supper.  The  old  man  was  not  a  little 
astonished,  when  Paul  joined  him,  to  see  that  his  old 
client's  brow  was  calm  and  his  face  serene,  though 
noticeably  changed.  If  at  the  age  of  thirty-three  the 
Comte  de  Manerville  seemed  to  be  a  man  of  forty,  that 
change  in  his  appearance  was  due  solely  to  mental 
shocks ;  physically,  he  was  well.  He  clasped  the  old 
man's  hand  affectionately,  and  forced  him  not  to  rise, 
saying : — 

"Dear,  kind  Maltre  Mathias,  you,  too,  have  had 
your  troubles." 

"Mine  were  natural  troubles,  Monsieur  le  comte; 
but  yours  —  " 

"We  will  talk  of  that  presently,  while  we  sup." 

"If  I  had  not  a  son  in  the  magistracy,  and  a  daugh- 
ter married,"  said  the  good  old  man,  "you  would  have 
found  in  old  Mathias,  believe  me,  Monsieur  le  comte, 
something  better  than  mere  hospitality.  Why  have 
you  come  to  Bordeaux  at  the  very  moment  when  posters 
are  on  all  the  walls  of  the  seizure  of  your  farms  at 


The  Marriage   Contract.  139 

Grassol  and  Guadet,  the  vineyard  of  Belle-Rose  and 
the  family  mansion?  I  cannot  tell  yon  the  grief  I 
feel  at  the  sight  of  those  placards,  —  I,  who  for  forty 
years  nursed  that  property  as  if  it  belonged  to  me ;  I, 
who  bought  it  for  your  mother  when  I  was  only  third 
clerk  to  Monsieur  Chesnau,  my  predecessor,  and  wrote 
the  deeds  myself  in  my  best  round  hand ;  I,  who  have 
those  titles  now  in  my  successor's  office;  I,  who  have 
known  you  since  you  were  so  high;"  and  the  old  man 
stooped  to  put  his  hand  near  the  ground.  "Ah!  a 
man  must  have  been  a  notary  for  forty-one  years  and 
a  half  to  know  the  sort  of  grief  I  feel  to  see  my  name 
exposed  before  the  face  of  Israel  in  those  announce- 
ments of  the  seizure  and  sale  of  the  property.  When 
I  pass  through  the  streets  and  see  men  reading  those 
horrible  yellow  posters,  I  am  ashamed,  as  if  my  own 
honor  and  ruin  were  concerned.  Some  fools  will 
stand  there  and  read  them  aloud  expressly  to  draw 
other  fools  about  them  —  and  what  imbecile  remarks 
they  make !  As  if  a  man  were  not  master  of  his  own 
property!  Your  father  ran  through  two  fortunes  be- 
fore he  made  the  one  he  left  you;  and  you  wouldn't 
be  a  Manerville  if  you  did  n't  do  likewise.  Besides, 
seizures  of  real  estate  have  a  whole  section  of  the 
Code  to  themselves ;  they  are  expected  and  provided 
for;  you  are  in  a  position  recognized  by  the  law.  — 
If  I  were  not  an  old  man  with  white  hair,  I  would 
thrash  those  fools  I  hear  reading  aloud  in  the  streets 
such  an  abomination  as  this,"  added  the  worthy 
notary,  taking  up  a  paper:  "  'At  the  request  of  Dame 
Natalie  ^vangelista,  wife  of  Paul-Francois-Joseph, 
Comte   de    Manerville,    separated    from    him    as    to 


140  The  Marriage  Contract. 

worldly  goods  and  chattels  by  the  Lower  court  of  the 
department  of  the  Seine  —  '  " 

"Yes,  and  now  separated  in  body,"  said  Paul. 

"Ah!  "  exclaimed  the  old  man. 

"Oh!  against  my  wife's  will,"  added  the  count, 
hastily.  "I  was  forced  to  deceive  her;  she  did  not 
know  that  I  was  leaving  her." 

"You  have  left  her?" 

"My  passage  is  taken;  I  sail  for  Calcutta  on  the 
'Belle- Amelie.'" 

"Two  days  hence! "  cried  the  notary.  "Then, 
Monsieur  le  comte,  we  shall  never  meet  again." 

"You  are  only  seventy-three,  my  dear  Mathias,  and 
you  have  the  gout,  the  brevet  of  old  age.  When  I 
return  I  shall  find  you  still  afoot.  Your  good  head 
and  heart  will  be  as  sound  as  ever,  and  you  will  help 
me  to  reconstruct  what  is  now  a  shaken  edifice.  I 
intend  to  make  a  noble  fortune  in  seven  years.  I 
shall  be  only  forty  on  my  return.  All  is  still  possible 
at  that  age. " 

"You?"  said  Mathias,  with  a  gesture  of  amaze- 
ment, —  you,  Monsieur  le  comte,  to  undertake  com- 
merce !     How  can  you  even  think  of  it  ?  " 

"I  am  no  longer  Monsieur  le  comte,  dear  Mathias. 
My  passage  is  taken  under  the  name  of  Camille,  one 
of  my  mother's  baptismal  names.  I  have  acquire- 
ments which  will  enable  me  to  make  my  fortune  other- 
wise than  in  business.  Commerce,  at  any  rate,  will 
be  only  my  final  chance.  I  start  with  a  sum  in  hand 
sufficient  for  the  redemption  of  my  future  on  a  large 
scale." 

"Where  is  that  money?  " 


t( 


ti 


The  Marriage    Contract.  141 

"A  friend  is  to  send  it  to  me." 

The  old  man  dropped  his  fork  as  he  heard  the  word 

friend,"  not  in  surprise,  not  scoffingly,  but  in  grief; 
his  look  and  manner  expressed  the  pain  he  felt  in 
finding  Paul  under  the  influence  of  a  deceitful  illusion ; 
his  practised  eye  fathomed  a  gulf  where  the  count  saw 
nothing  but  solid  ground. 

I  have  been  fifty  years  in  the  notariat,"  he  said, 
and  I  never  yet  knew  a  ruined  man  whose  friends 
would  lend  him  money." 

"You  don't  know  de  Marsay.  I  am  certain  that  he 
has  sold  out  some  of  his  investments  already,  and  to- 
morrow you  will  receive  from  him  a  bill  of  exchange 
for  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs." 

"I  hope  I  may.  If  that  be  so,  cannot  your  friend 
settle  your  difficulties  here?  You  could  live  quietly 
at  Laustrac  for  five  or  six  years  on  your  wife's  income, 
and  so  recover  yourself." 

"No  assignment  or  economy  on  my  part  could  pay 
off  fifteen  hundred  thousand  francs  of  debt,  in  which 
my  wife  is  involved  to  the  amount  of  five  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand." 

"You  cannot  mean  to  say  that  in  four  years  you 
have  incurred  a  million  and  a  half  of  debt?" 

"Nothing  is  more  certain,  Mathias.  Did  I  not  give 
those  diamonds  to  my  wife?  Did  I  not  spend  the 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  I  received  from  the  sale 
of  Madame  Evangelista's  house,  in  the  arrangement 
of  my  house  in  Paris?  Was  I  not  forced  to  use 
other  money  for  the  first  payments  on  that  property 
demanded  by  the  marriage  contract?  I  was  even 
forced  to  sell  out  Natalie's  forty  thousand  a  year  in 


142  The  Marriage  Contract, 

the  Funds  to  complete  the  purchase  of  Auzac  and  Saint- 
Froult.  We  sold  at  eighty-seven,  therefore  I  became 
in  debt  for  over  two  hundred  thousand  francs  within  a 
month  after  my  marriage.  That  left  us  only  sixty- 
seven  thousand  francs  a  year;  but  we  spent  fully  three 
times  as  much  every  year.  Add  all  that  up,  together 
with  rates  of  interest  to  usurers,  and  you  will  soon 
find  a  million." 

"Br-r-r! "  exclaimed  the  old  notary.  "Go  on. 
What  next?" 

"Well,  I  wanted,  in  the  first  place,  to  complete  for 
my  wife  that  set  of  jewels  of  which  she  had  the  pearl 
necklace  clasped  by  the  family  diamond,  the  Discreto, 
and  her  mother's  ear-rings.  I  paid  a  hundred  thousand 
francs  for  a  coronet  of  diamond  wheat-ears.  There  's 
eleven  hundred  thousand.  And  now  I  find  I  owe  the 
fortune  of  my  wife,  which  amounts  to  three  hundred 
and  sixty-six  thousand  francs  of  her  dot." 

"But,"  said  Mathias,  "if  Madame  la  comtesse  had 
given  up  her  diamonds  and  you  had  pledged  your 
income  you  could  have  pacified  your  creditors  and 
have  paid  them  off  in  time." 

"When  a  man  is  down,  Mathias,  when  his  property 
is  covered  with  mortgages,  when  his  wife's  claims 
take  precedence  of  his  creditors',  and  when  that  man 
has  notes  out  for  a  hundred  thousand  francs  which  he 
must  pay  (and  I  hope  I  can  do  so  out  of  the  increased 
value  of  my  property  here),  what  you  propose  is  not 
possible." 

"This  is  dreadful!"  cried  Mathias;  "would  you 
sell  Belle-Rose  with  the  vintage  of  1825  still  in  the 
cellars  ?  " 


The  Marriage   Contract  143 

"I  cannot  help  myself." 

"Belle-Rose  is  worth  six  hundred  thousand  francs." 

"Natalie  will  buy  it  in;  I  have  advised  her  to 
do  so." 

"I  might  push  the  price  to  seven  hundred  thousand, 
and  the  farms  are  worth  a  hundred  thousand  each." 

"Then  if  the  house  in  Bordeaux  can  be  sold  for  two 
hundred  thousand  —  " 

"Solonet  will  give  more  than  that;  he  wants  it." 
He  is  retiring  with  a  handsome  property  made  by 
gambling  on  the  Funds.  He  has  sold  his  practice  for 
three  hundred  thousand  francs,  and  marries  a  mulatto 
woman.  God  knows  how  she  got  her  money,  but  they 
say  it  amounts  to  millions.  A  notary  gambling  in 
stocks!  a  notary  marrying  a  black  woman!  What  an 
age!  It  is  said  that  he  speculates  for  your  mother- 
in-law  with  her  funds." 

"She  has  greatly  improved  Lanstrac  and  taken  great 
pains  with  its  cultivation.  She  has  amply  repaid  me 
for  the  use  of  it." 

"I  should  n't  have  thought  her  capable  of  that." 

"She  is  so  kind  and  so  devoted;  she  has  always 
paid  Natalie's  debts  during  the  three  months  she  spent 
with  us  every  year  in  Paris." 

"She  could  well  afford  to  do  so,  for  she  gets  her 
living  out  of  Lanstrac,"  said  Mathias.  "She!  grown 
economical!  what  a  miracle!  I  am  told  she  has  just 
bought  the  domain  of  Grainrouge  between  Lanstrac 
and  Grassol;  so  that  if  the  Lanstrac  avenue  were 
extended  to  the  high-road,  you  would  drive  four  and  a 
half  miles  through  your  own  property  to  reach  the 
house.  She  paid  one  hundred  thousand  francs  down 
for  Grainrouge." 


144  The  Marriage   Contract. 


u< 


She  is  as  handsome  as  ever,"  said  Paul;  "country 
life  preserves  her  freshness;  I  don't  mean  to  go  to 
Lanstrac  and  bid  her  good-bye;  her  heart  would  bleed 
for  me  too  much." 

i 'You  would  go  in  vain;  she  is  now  in  Paris.     She 
probably  arrived  there  as  you  left." 

"  No  doubt  she  had  heard  of  the  sale  of  my  property 
and  came  to  help  me.  I  have  no  complaint  to  make 
of  life,  Mathias.  I  am  truly  loved,  —  as  much  as  any 
man  ever  could  be  here  below ;  beloved  by  two  women 
who  outdo  each  other  in  devotion;  they  are  even 
jealous  of  each  other;  the  daughter  blames  the  mother 
for  loving  me  too  much,  and  the  mother  reproaches  the 
daughter  for  what  she  calls  her  dissipations.  I  may 
say  that  this  great  affection  has  been  my  ruin.  How 
could  I  fail  to  satisfy  even  the  slightest  caprice  of  a 
loving  wife?  Impossible  to  restrain  myself!  Neither 
could  I  accept  any  sacrifice  on  her  part.  We  might 
certainly,  as  you  say,  live  at  Lanstrac,  save  my  in- 
come, and  part  with  her  diamonds,  but  I  would  rather 
go  to  India  and  work  for  a  fortune  than  tear  my 
Natalie  from  the  life  she  enjoys.  So  it  was  I  who 
proposed  the  separation  as  to  property.  Women  are 
angels  who  ought  not  to  be  mixed  up  in  the  sordid 
interests  of  life." 

Old  Mathias  listened  in  doubt  and  amazement. 

"You  have  no  children,  I  think,"  he  said. 

"Fortunately,  none,"  replied  Paul. 

"That  is  not  my  idea  of  marriage,"  remarked  the 
old  notary,  naively.  "A  wife  ought,  in  my  opinion, 
to  share  the  orood  and  evil  fortunes  of  her  husband.  I 
have  heard  that  young  married  people  who  love  like 


The  Marriage    Contract.  145 

lovers,  do  not  want  children?  Is  pleasure  the  only 
object  of  marriage?  I  say  that  object  should  be  the 
joys  of  family.  Moreover,  in  this  case  —  I  am  afraid 
you  will  think  me  too  much  of  notary  —  your  marriage 
contract  made  it  incumbent  upon  you  to  have  a  son. 
Yes,  Monsieur  le  comte,  you  ought  to  have  had  at 
once  a  male  heir  to  consolidate  that  entail.  Why  not? 
Mademoiselle  fivangelista  was  strong  and  healthy; 
she  had  nothing  to  fear  in  maternity.  You  will  tell 
me,  perhaps,  that  these  are  the  old-fashioned  notions 
of  our  ancestors.  But  in  those  noble  families,  Mon- 
sieur le  comte,  the  legitimate  wife  thought  it  her 
duty  to  bear  children  and  bring  them  up  nobly;  as 
the  Duchesse  de  Sully,  the  wife  of  the  great  Sully, 
said,  a  wife  is  not  an  instrument  of  pleasure,  but  the 
honor  and  virtue  of  her  household." 

"You  don't  know  women,  my  good  Mathias,"  said 
Paul.  "In  order  to  be  happy  we  must  love  them  as 
they  want  to  be  loved.  Is  n't  there  something  brutal 
in  at  once  depriving  a  wife  of  her  charms,  and  spoil- 
ing her  beauty  before  she  has  begun  to  enjoy  it?  " 

"If  you  had  had  children  your  wife  would  not  have 
dissipated  your  fortune;  she  would  have  stayed  at 
home  and  looked  after  them." 

"If  you  were  right,  dear  friend,"  said  Paul,  frown- 
ing, "I  should  be  still  more  unhappv  than  I  am.  Do 
not  aggravate  my  sufferings  by  preaching  to  me  after 
my  fall.  Let  me  go,  without  the  pang  of  looking 
backward  to  mistakes." 

The  next  day  Mathias  received  a  bill  of  exchange 
for  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs  from  de 
Mar  say. 

10 


246  The  Marriage    Contract. 

"You  see,"  said  Paul,  "he  does  not  write  a  word  to 
me.  He  begins  by  obliging  me.  Henri's  nature  is 
the  most  imperfectly  perfect,  the  most  illegally  beauti- 
ful that  I  know.  If  you  knew  with  what  superiority 
that  man,  still  young,  can  rise  above  sentiments, 
above  self-interests,  and  judge  them,  you  would  be 
astonished,  as  I  am,  to  find  how  much  heart  he  has." 

Mathias  tried  to  battle  with  Paul's  determination, 
but  he  found  it  irrevocable,  and  it  was  justified  by  so 
maoy  cogent  reasons  that  the  old  man  finally  ceased 
his  endeavors  to  retain  his  client. 

It  is  seldom  that  vessels  sail  promptly  at  the  time 
appointed,  but  on  this  occasion,  by  a  fateful  circum- 
stance for  Paul,  the  wind  was  fair  and  the  "Belle- 
Amelie "  sailed  on  the  morrow,  as  expected.  The 
quay  was  lined  with  relations,  and  friends,  and  idle 
persons.  Among  them  were  several  who  had  formerly 
known  Manerville.  His  disaster,  posted  on  the  walls 
of  the  town,  made  him  as  celebrated  as  he  was  in 
the  days  of  his  wealth  and  fashion.  Curiosity  was 
aroused;  every  one  had  their  word  to  say  about  him. 
Old  Mathias  accompanied  his  client  to  the  quay,  and 
his  sufferings  were  sore  as  he  caught  a  few  words  of 
those  remarks :  — 

"Who  could  recognize  in  that  man  you  see  over 
there,  near  old  Mathias,  the  dandy  who  was  called 
the  Pink  of  Fashion  five  years  ago,  and  made,  as  they 
say,  'fair  weather  and  foul '  in  Bordeaux." 

"What!  that  stout,  short  man  in  the  alpaca  over- 
coat, who  looks  like  a  groom,  —  is  that  Comte  Paul 
de  Manerville?" 

"Yes,  my  dear,  the  same  who  married  Mademoiselle 


The  Marriage   Contract.  147 

fivangeli sta.     Here  he  is,  ruined,  without  a  penny  to 
his  name,  going  out  to  India  to  look  for  luck." 
"But  how  did  he  ruin  himself?  he  was  very  rich." 
"Oh!  Paris,  women,  play,  luxury,  gambling  at  the 
Bourse  —  " 

"Besides,"  said  another,  "Manerville  always  was  a 
poor  creature;  no  mind,  soft  as  papier-mache,  he'd 
let  anybody  shear  the  wool  from  his  back;  incapable 
of  anything,  no  matter  what.  He  was  born  to  be 
ruined. 

Paul  wrung  the  hand  of  the  old  man  and  went  on 
board.  Mathias  stood  upon  the  pier,  looking  at  his 
client,  who  leaned  against  the  shrouds,  defying  the 
crowd  before  him  with  a  glance  of  contempt.  At  the 
moment  when  the  sailors  began  to  weigh  anchor,  Paul 
noticed  that  Mathias  was  making  signals  to  him  with 
his  handkerchief.  The  old  housekeeper  had  hurried  to 
her  master,  who  seemed  to  be  excited  by  some  sudden 
event.  Paul  asked  the  captain  to  wait  a  moment,  and 
send  a  boat  to  the  pier,  which  was  done.  Too  feeble 
himself  to  go  aboard,  Mathias  gave  two  letters  to  a 
sailor  in  the  boat. 

"My  friend,"  he  said,  "this  packet"  (showing  one 
of  the  two  letters)  "  is  important ;  it  has  just  arrived 
by  a  courier  from  Paris  in  thirty- five  hours.  State 
this  to  Monsieur  le  comte;  don't  neglect  to  do  so; 
it  may  change  hi3  plans." 
"Would  he  come  ashore?" 

"Possibly,    my   friend,"    said    the   notary,    impru- 
dently. 

The  sailor  is,  in  all  lands,  a  being  of  a  race  apart, 
Lolding  all  land-folk  in  contempt.     This  one  happened 


148  The  Marriage   Contract. 

to  be  a  bas-Breton,  who  saw  but  one  thing  in  Maitre 
Mathias's  request. 

"Come  ashore,  indeed!"  he  thought,  as  he  rowed. 
"Make  the  captain  lose  a  passenger!  If  one  listened 
to  those  walruses  we  'd  have  nothing  to  do  but 
embark  and  disembark  'em.  He 's  afraid  that  son 
of  his  will  catch  cold." 

The  sailor  gave  Paul  the  letter  and  said  not  a  word 
of  the  message.  Recognizing  the  handwriting  of  his 
wife  and  de  Marsay,  Paul  supposed  that  he  knew  what 
they  both  would  urge  upon  him.  Anxious  not  to  be 
influenced  by  offers  which  he  believed  their  devotion 
to  hi3  welfare  would  inspire,  he  put  the  letters  in  his 
pocket  unread,  with  apparent  indifference. 

Absorbed  in  the  sad  thoughts  which  assail  the 
strongest  man  under  such  circumstances,  Paul  gave 
way  to  his  grief  as  he  waved  his  hand  to  his  old 
friend,  and  bade  farewell  to  France,  watching  the 
steeples  of  Bordeaux  as  they  fled  out  of  sight.  He 
seated  himself  on  a  coil  of  rope.  Night  overtook  him 
still  lost  in  thought.  With  the  semi-darkness  of  the 
dying  day  came  doubts ;  he  cast  an  anxious  eye  into 
the  future.  Sounding  it,  and  finding  there  uncertainty 
and  danger,  he  asked  his  soul  if  courage  would  fail 
him.  A  vague  dread  seized  his  mind  as  he  thought  of 
Natalie  left  wholly  to  herself;  he  repented  the  step  he 
had  taken ;  he  regretted  Paris  and  his  life  there.  Sud- 
denly sea-sickness  overcame  him.  Every  one  knows 
the  effect  of  that  disorder.  The  most  horrible  of  its 
sufferings  devoid  of  danger  is  a  complete  dissolution 
of  the  will.  An  inexplicable  distress  relaxes  to  their 
very  centre  the  cords  of  vitality ;  the  soul  no  longer 


Tire  Marriage   Contract.  149 

performs  its  functions;  the  sufferer  becomes  indifferent 
to  everything;  the  mother  forgets  her  child,  the  lover 
his  mistress,  the  strongest  man  lies  prone,  like  an 
inert  mass.  Paul  was  carried  to  his  cabin,  where  he 
stayed  three  days,  lying  on  his  back,  gorged  with  grog 
by  the  sailors,  or  vomiting ;  thinking  of  nothing,  and 
sleeping  much.  Then  he  revived  into  a  species  of 
convalescence,  and  returned  by  degrees  to  his  ordi- 
nary condition.  The  first  morning  after  he  felt  better 
he  went  on  deck  and  paced  the  poop,  breathing  in 
the  salt  breezes  of  another  atmosphere.  Putting  his 
hands  into  his  pockets  he  felt  the  letters.  At  once  he 
opened  them,  beginning  with  that  of  his  wife. 

In  order  that  the  letter  of  the  Comtesse  de  Maner- 
ville  be  fully  understood,  it  is  necessary  to  give  the 
one  which  Paul  had  written  to  her  on  the  day  that  he 
left  Paris. 

From  Paul  de  Manerville  to  his  wife  : 

My  beloved,  —  When  you  read  this  letter  I  shall 
be  far  away  from  you;  perhaps  already  on  the  vessel 
which  is  to  take  me  to  India,  where  I  am  going  to 
repair  my  shattered  fortune. 

I  have  not  found  courage  to  tell  you  of  my  depart- 
ure. I  have  deceived  you ;  but  it  was  best  to  do  so. 
You  would  only  have  been  uselessly  distressed;  }tou 
would  have  wished  to  sacrifice  your  fortune,  and  that 
I  could  not  have  suffered.  Dear  Natalie,  feel  no 
remorse;  I  have  no  regrets.  When  I  return  with 
millions  I  shall  imitate  your  father  and  lay  them  at 
your  feet,  as  he  laid  his  at  the  feet  of  your  mother, 
saying  to  you:  "All  I  have  is  yours." 


150  The  Marriage    Contract. 

I  love  you  madly,  Natalie;  I  say  this  without  fear 
that  the  avowal  will  lead  you  to  strain  a  power  which 
none  but  weak  men  fear;  yours  has  been  boundless 
from  the  day  I  knew  you  first.  My  love  is  the  only 
accomplice  in  my  disaster.  I  have  felt,  as  my  ruin 
progressed,  the  delirious  joys  of  a  gambler;  as  the 
money  diminished,  so  my  enjoyment  grew.  Each  frag- 
ment of  my  fortune  turned  into  some  little  pleasure 
for  you  gave  me  untold  happiness.  I  could  have 
wished  that  you  had  more  caprices  that  I  might  gratify 
them  all.  I  knew  I  was  marching  to  a  precipice,  but 
I  went  on  crowned  with  joys  of  which  a  common  heart 
knows  nothing.  I  have  acted  like  those  lovers  who 
take  refuge  in  a  cottage  on  the  shores  of  some  lake 
for  a  year  or  two,  resolved  to  kill  themselves  at  last ; 
dying  thus  in  all  the  glory  of  their  illusions  and  their 
love.  I  have  always  thought  such  persons  infinitely 
sensible. 

You  have  known  nothing  of  my  pleasures  or  my 
sacrifices.  The  greatest  joy  of  all  was  to  hide  from 
the  one  beloved  the  cost  of  her  desires.  I  can  reveal 
these  secrets  to  you  now,  for  when  you  hold  this 
paper,  heavy  with  love,  I  shall  be  far  away.  Though 
I  lose  the  treasures  of  your  gratitude,  I  do  not  suffer 
that  contraction  of  the  heart  which  would  disable  me  if 
I  spoke  to  you  of  these  matters.  Besides,  my  own 
beloved,  is  there  not  a  tender  calculation  in  thus  re- 
vealing to  you  the  history  of  the  past?  Does  it  not 
extend  our  love  into  the  future?  —  But  we  need  no 
such  supports!  We  love  each  other  with  a  love  to 
which  proof  is  needless,  —  a  love  which  takes  no  note 
of  time  or  distance,  but  lives  of  itself  alone. 


The  Marriage   Contract.  151 

Ah!  Natalie,  I  have  just  looked  at  you  asleep,  trust- 
ful, restful  as  a  little  child,  your  hand  stretched  toward 
me.  I  left  a  tear  upon  the  pillow  which  has  known 
our  precious  joys.  I  leave  you  without  fear,  on  the 
faith  of  that  attitude;  I  go  to  win  the  future  of  our 
love  by  bringing  home  to  you  a  fortune  large  enough 
to  gratify  your  every  taste,  and  let  no  shadow  of 
anxiety  disturb  our  joys.  Neither  you  nor  I  can  do 
without  enjoyments  in  the  life  we  live.  To  me  be- 
longs the  task  of  providing  the  necessary  fortune.  I 
am  a  man ;  and  I  have  courage. 

Perhaps  you  might  seek  to  follow  me.  For  that 
reason  I  conceal  from  you  the  name  of  the  vessel,  the 
port  from  which  I  sail,  and  the  day  of  sailing.  After 
I  am  gone,  when  too  late  to  follow  me,  a  friend  will 
tell  you  all. 

Natalie!  my  affection  is  boundless.  I  love  you  as 
a  mother  loves  her  child,  as  a  lover  loves  his  mistress, 
with  absolute  unselfishness.  To  me  the  toil,  to  you 
the  pleasures;  to  me  all  sufferings,  to  you  all  hap- 
piness. Amuse  yourself;  continue  your  habits  of 
luxury;  go  to  theatres  and  operas,  enjoy  society  and 
balls;  I  leave  you  free  for  all  things.  Dear  angel, 
when  you  return  to  this  nest  where  for  five  years  we 
have  tasted  the  fruits  which  love  has  ripened  think  of 
your  friend;  think  for  a  moment  of  me,  and  rest  upon 
my  heart. 

That  is  all  I  ask  of  you.  For  myself,  dear  eternal 
thought  of  mine!  whether  under  burning  skies,  toil- 
ing for  both  of  us,  I  face  obstacles  to  vanquish,  or 
whether,  weary  with  the  struggle,  I  rest  my  mind  on 
hopes  of  a  return,  I  shall  think  of  you  alone;  of  you 


152  The  Marriage   Contract. 

who  are  my  life,  — my  blessed  life!  Yes,  I  shall  live 
in  you.  I  shall  tell  myself  daily  that  you  have  no 
troubles,  no  cares;  that  you  are  happy.  As  in  our 
natural  lives  of  day  and  night,  of  sleeping  and  wak- 
ing, I  shall  have  sunny  days  in  Paris,  and  nights  of 
toil  in  India,  —  a  painful  dream,  a  joyful  reality;  and 
I  shall  live  so  utterly  in  that  reality  that  my  actual 
life  will  pass  as  a  dream.  I  shall  have  memories!  I 
shall  recall,  line  by  line,  strophe  by  strophe,  our 
glorious  five  years'  poem.  I  shall  remember  the  days 
of  your  pleasure  in  some  new  dress  or  some  adornment 
which  made  you  to  my  eyes  a  fresh  delight.  Yes, 
dear  angel,  I  go  like  a  man  vowed  to  some  great 
emprize,  the  guerdon  of  which,  if  success  attend  him, 
is  the  recovery  of  his  beautiful  mistress.  Oh!  my 
precious  love,  my  Natalie,  keep  me  as  a  religion  in 
your  heart.  Be  the  child  that  I  have  just  seen  asleep ! 
If  you  betray  my  confidence,  my  blind  confidence,  you 
need  not  fear  my  anger  —  be  sure  of  that ;  I  should 
die  silently.  But  a  wife  does  not  deceive  the  man 
who  leaves  her  free  —  for  woman  is  never  base.  She 
tricks  a  tyrant;  but  an  easy  treachery,  which  would 
kill  its  victim,  she  will  not  commit —  No,  no!  I  will 
not  think  of  it.  Forgive  this  cry,  this  single  cry,  so 
natural  to  the  heart  of  man ! 

Dear  love,  you  will  see  de  Marsay;  he  is  now  the 
lessee  of  our  house,  and  he  will  leave  you  in  posses-- 
sion  of  it.  This  nominal  lease  was  necessary  to  avoid 
a  useless  loss.  Our  creditors,  ignorant  that  their  pay- 
ment is  a  question  of  time  only,  would  otherwise  have 
seized  the  furniture  and  the  temporary  possession  of 
the  house.     Be  kind  to  de  Marsay;  I  have  the  most 


The  Marriage   Contract.  153 

entire  confidence  in  his  capacity  and  his  loyalty. 
Take  him  as  your  defender  and  adviser,  make  him 
your  slave.  However  occupied,  he  will  always  find 
time  to  be  devoted  to  you.  I  have  placed  the  liquida 
tion  of  my  affairs  and  the  payment  of  the  debts  in  his 
hands.  If  he  should  advance  some  sum  of  which  he 
should  later  feel  in  need  I  rely  on  you  to  pay  it  back. 
Remember,  however,  that  I  do  not  leave  you  to  de 
Marsay,  but  to  yourself;  I  do  not  seek  to  impose  him 
upon  you. 

Alas !  I  have  but  an  hour  more  to  stay  beside  you ; 
I  cannot  spend  that  hour  in  writing  business  —  I 
count  your  breaths;  I  try  to  guess  your  thoughts  in 
the  slight  motions  of  your  sleep.  I  would  I  could 
infuse  my  blood  into  your  veins  that  you  might  be  a 
part  of  me,  my  thought  your  thought,  and  your  heart 
mine  —  A  murmur  has  just  escaped  your  lips  as 
though  it  were  a  soft  reply.  Be  calm  and  beautiful 
forever  as  you  are  now!  Ah!  would  that  I  possessed 
that  fabulous  fairy  power  which,  with  a  wand,  could 
make  you  sleep  while  I  am  absent,  until,  returning,  I 
should  wake  you  with  a  kiss. 

How  much  I  must  love  you,  how  much  energy  of 
soul  I  must  possess,  to  leave  you  as  I  see  you  now ! 
Adieu,  my  cherished  one.  Your  poor  Pink  of  Fashion 
is  blown  away  by  stormy  winds,  but  —  the  wings  of 
his  good  luck  shall  waft  him  back  to  you.  No,  my 
Ninie,  I  am  not  bidding  you  farewell,  for  I  shall  never 
leave  you.  Are  you  not  the  soul  of  my  actions?  Is 
not  the  hope  of  returning  with  happiness  indestructible 
for  you  the  end  and  aim  of  my  endeavor?  Does  it  not 
lead  my  every  step?     You  will   be  with   me  every- 


154  The  Marriage   Contract. 

where.  Ah!  it  will  not  be  the  sun  of  India,  but  the 
fire  of  your  eyes  that  lights  my  way.  Therefore  be 
happy  —  as  happy  as  a  woman  can  be  without  her 
lover.  I  would  the  last  kiss  that  I  take  from  those 
dear  lips  were  not  a  passive  one;  but,  my  Ninie,  my 
adored  one,  I  will  not  wake  you.  When  you  wake, 
you  will  find  a  tear  upon  your  forehead  —  make  it  a 
talisman!  Think,  think  of  him  who  may,  perhaps, 
die  for  you,  far  from  you ;  think  less  of  the  husband 
than  of  the  lover  who  confides  you  to  God. 

From,  the  Comtesse  de  Manerville  to  her  husband : 

Dear,  beloved  one,  —  Your  letter  has  plunged  me 
into  affliction.  Had  you  the  right  to  take  this  course, 
which  must  affect  us  equally,  without  consulting  me? 
Are  you  free?  Do  you  not  belong  to  me?  If  you 
must  go,  why  should  I  not  follow  you?  You  show 
me,  Paul,  that  I  am  not  indispensable  to  you.  What 
have  I  done,  to  be  deprived  of  my  rights  ?  Surely  I 
count  for  something  in  this  ruin.  My  luxuries  have 
weighed  somewhat  in  the  scale.  You  make  me  curse 
the  happy,  careless  life  we  have  led  for  the  last  five 
years.  To  know  that  you  are  banished  from  France 
for  years  is  enough  to  kill  me.  How  soon  can  a 
fortune  be  made  in  India?     Will  you  ever  return? 

I  was  right  when  I  refused,  with  instinctive  obsti- 
nacy, that  separation  as  to  property  which  my  mother 
and  you  were  so  determined  to  carry  out.  What  did 
T  tell  you  then?  Did  I  not  warn  you  that  it  was  cast- 
ing a  reflection  upon  you,  and  would  ruin  your  credit? 
It  was  not  until  you  were  really  angry  that  I  gave 
way- 


The  Marriage   Contract.  155 

My  dear  Paul,  never  have  you  been  so  noble  in  my 
eyes  as  you  are  at  this  moment.  To  despair  of  noth- 
ing, to  start  courageously  to  seek  a  fortune !  Only  your 
character,  your  strength  of  mind  could  do  it.  I  sit 
at  your  feet.  A  man  who  avows  his  weakness  with 
your  good  faith,  who  rebuilds  his  fortune  from  the 
same  motive  that  made  him  wreck  it,  for  love's  sake, 
for  the  sake  of  an  irresistible  passion,  oh,  Paul,  that 
man  is  sublime!  Therefore,  fear  nothing;  go  on, 
through  all  obstacles,  not  doubting  your  Natalie  —  for 
that  would  be  doubting  yourself.  Poor  darling,  you 
mean  to  live  in  me?  And  I  shall  ever  be  in  you.  I 
shall  not  be  here ;  I  shall  be  wherever  you  are,  where- 
ever  you  go. 

Though  your  letter  has  caused  me  the  keenest  pain, 
it  has  also  filled  me  with  joy  —  you  have  made  me 
know  those  two  extremes!  Seeing  how  you  love  me, 
I  have  been  proud  to  learn  that  my  love  is  truly  felt. 
Sometimes  I  have  thought  that  I  loved  you  more  than 
you  loved  me.  Now,  I  admit  myself  vanquished,  you 
have  added  the  delightful  superiority  —  of  loving  —  to 
all  the  others  with  which  you  are  blest.  That  precious 
letter  in  which  your  soul  reveals  itself  will  lie  upon 
my  heart  during  all  your  absence;  for  my  soul,  too, 
is  in  it;  that  letter  is  my  glory. 

I  shall  go  to  live  at  Lanstrac  with  my  mother.  I 
die  to  the  world;  I  will  economize  my  income  and 
pay  your  debts  to  their  last  farthing.  From  this  day 
forth,  Paul,  T  am  another  woman.  I  bid  farewell  for- 
ever to  society;  I  will  have  no  pleasures  that  you 
cannot  share.  Besides,  Paul,  I  ought  to  leave  Paris 
and  live  in  retirement.     Dear  friend,  you  will  soon 


156  The  Marriage  Contract. 

have  a  double  reason  to  make  your  fortune.  If  your 
courage  needed  a  spur  you  would  find  it  in  this. 
Cannot  you  guess?  We  shall  have  a  child.  Your 
cherished  desires  are  granted.  I  feared  to  give  you 
one  of  those  false  hopes  which  hurt  so  much  —  have 
we  not  had  grief  enough  already  on  that  score  ?  I  was 
determined  not  to  be  mistaken  in  this  good  news. 
To-day  I  feel  certain,  and  it  makes  me  happy  to  shed 
this  joy  upon  your  sorrows. 

This  morning,  fearing  nothing  and  thinking  you 
still  at  home,  I  went  to  the  Assumption;  all  things 
smiled  upon  me;  how  could  I  foresee  misfortune?  As 
I  left  the  church  I  met  my  mother;  she  had  heard  of 
your  distress,  and  came,  by  post,  with  all  her  savings, 
thirty  thousand  francs,  hoping  to  help  you.  Ah! 
what  a  heart  is  hers,  Paul !  I  felt  joyful,  and  hurried 
home  to  tell  you  this  good  news,  and  to  breakfast 
with  you  in  the  greenhouse,  where  I  ordered  just  the 
dainties  that  you  like.  Well,  Augustine  brought  me 
your  letter,  —  a  letter  from  you,  when  we  had  slept 
together!  A  cold  fear  seized  me;  it  was  like  a  dream! 
I  read  your  letter!  I  read  it  weeping,  and  my  mother 
shared  my  tears.  I  was  half-dead.  Such  love,  such 
courage,  such  happiness,  such  misery!  The  richest 
fortunes  of  the  heart,  and  the  momentary  ruin  of  all 
interests !  To  lose  you  at  a  moment  when  my  admira- 
tion of  your  greatness  thrilled  me !  what  woman  could 
have  resisted  such  a  tempest  of  emotion?  To  know 
you  far  away  when  your  hand  upon  my  heart  would 
have  stilled  its  throbbings;  to  feel  that  you  were  not 
here  to  give  me  that  look  so  precious  to  me,  to  re- 
joice in  our  new  hopes;  that  I  was  not  with  you  to 


The  Marriage  Contract.  157 

soften  your  sorrows  by  those  caresses  which  made  your 
Natalie  so  dear  to  you!  I  wished  to  start,  to  follow 
you,  to  fly  to  you.  But  my  mother  told  me  you  had 
taken  passage  in  a  ship  which  leaves  Bordeaux  to- 
morrow, that  I  could  not  reach  you  except  by  post, 
and,  moreover,  that  it  wras  madness  in  my  present 
state  to  risk  our  future  by  attempting  to  follow  you. 
I  could  not  bear  such  violent  emotions ;  I  was  taken 
ill,  and  am  writing  to  you  now  in  bed. 

My  mother  is  doing  all  she  can  to  stop  certain 
calumnies  which  seem  to  have  got  about  on  your  dis- 
aster. The  Vandenesses,  Charles  and  Felix,  have 
earnestly  defended  you;  but  your  friend  de  Marsay 
treats  the  affair  satirically.  He  laughs  at  your 
accusers  instead  of  replying  to  them.  I  do  not  like 
his  way  of  lightly  brushing  aside  such  serious  attacks. 
Are  you  not  deceived  in  him  ?  However,  I  will  obey 
you ;  I  will  make  him  my  friend.  Do  not  be  anxious, 
my  adored  one,  on  the  points  that  concern  your  honor; 
is  it  not  mine  as  well?  My  diamonds  shall  be 
pledged;  we  intend,  mamma  and  I,  to  employ  our 
utmost  resources  in  the  payment  of  your  debts;  and 
we  shall  try  to  buy  back  your  vineyard  at  Belle-Rose. 
My  mother,  who  understands  business  like  a  lawyer, 
blames  you  very  much  for  not  having  told  her  of  your 
embarrassments.  She  would  not  have  bought  —  think- 
ing to  please  you  —  the  Grainrouge  domain,  and  then 
she  could  have  lent  you  that  money  as  well  as  the 
thirty  thousand  francs  she  brought  with  her.  She  is 
in  despair  at  your  decision ;  she  fears  the  climate  of 
India  for  your  health.  She  entreats  you  to  be  sober, 
and  not  to  let  yourself  be  trapped  by  women  —    That 


158  The  Marriage  Contract, 

made  me  laugh;  I  am  as  sure  of  you  as  I  am  of 
myself.  You  will  return  to  me  rich  and  faithful.  I 
alone  know  your  feminine  delicacy,  and  the  secret 
sentiments  which  make  you  a  human  flower  worthy  of 
the  gardens  of  heaven.  The  Bordeaux  people  were 
right  when  they  gave  you  your  floral  nickname. 

But  alas!  who  will  take  care  of  my  delicate  flower? 
My  heart  is  rent  with  dreadful  ideas.  I,  his  wife, 
Natalie,  I  am  here,  and  perhaps  he  suffers  far  away 
from  me !  And  not  to  share  your  pains,  your  vexa- 
tions, your  dangers!  In  whom  will  you  confide?  how 
will  you  live  without  that  ear  into  which  you  have 
hitherto  poured  all?  Dear,  sensitive  plant,  swept 
away  by  this  storm,  will  you  be  able  to  survive  in 
another  soil  than  your  native  land? 

It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  been  alone  for  centuries. 
I  have  wept  sorely.  To  be  the  cause  of  your  ruin ! 
What  a  text  for  the  thoughts  of  a  loving  woman! 
You  treated  me  like  a  child  to  whom  we  give  all  it 
asks,  or  like  a  courtesan,  allowed  by  some  thoughtless 
youth  to  squander  his  fortune.  Ah !  such  indulgence 
was,  in  truth,  an  insult.  Did  you  think  I  could  not 
live  without  fine  dresses,  balls  and  operas  and  social 
triumphs?  Am  I  so  frivolous  a  woman?  Do  you 
think  me  incapable  of  serious  thought,  of  ministering 
to  your  fortune  as  I  have  to  your  pleasures  ?  If  you 
were  not  so  far  away,  and  so  unhappy,  I  would  blame 
you  for  that  impertinence.  Why  lower  your  wife  in 
that  way?  Good  heavens!  what  induced  me  to  go 
into  society  at  all  ?  —  to  flatter  your  vanity ;  I  adorned 
myself  for  you,  as  you  well  know.  If  I  did  wrong, 
I  am  punished,  cruelly;  your  absence  is  a  harsh 
expiation  of  our  mutual  life. 


The  Marriage  Contract.  159 

Perhaps  my  happiness  was  too  complete;  it  had  to 
be  paid  by  some  great  trial  —  and  here  it  is.  There 
is  nothing  now  for  me  but  solitude.  Yes,  I  shall  live 
at  Lanstrac,  the  place  your  father  laid  out,  the  house 
you  yourself  refurnished  so  luxuriously.  There  I 
shall  live,  with  my  mother  and  my  child,  and  await 
you,  —  sending  you  daily,  night  and  morning,  the 
prayers  of  all.  Remember  that  our  love  is  a  talisman 
against  all  evil.  I  have  no  more  doubt  of  you  than 
you  can  have  of  me.  What  comfort  can  I  put  into 
this  letter,  —  I  so  desolate,  so  broken,  with  the 
lonely  years  before  me,  like  a  desert  to  cross.  But 
no!  I  am  not  utterly  unhappy;  the  desert  will  be 
brightened  by  our  son,  —  yes,  it  must  be  a  son,  must 
it  not? 

And  now,  adieu,  my  own  beloved;  our  love  and 
prayers  will  follow  you.  The  tears  you  see  upon  this 
paper  will  tell  you  much  that  I  cannot  write.  I  kiss 
you  on  this  little  square  of  paper,  see !  below.  Take 
those  kisses  from 

Your  Natalie. 


This  letter  threw  Paul  into  a  revery  caused  as  much 
by  memories  of  the  past  as  by  these  fresh  assurances 
of  love.  The  happier  a  man  is,  the  more  he  trembles. 
In  souls  which  are  exclusively  tender  —  and  exclusive 
tenderness  carries  with  it  a  certain  amount  of  weak- 
ness —  jealousy  and  uneasiness  exist  in  direct  pro- 
portion to  the  amount  of  the  happiness  and  its  extent. 
Strong  souls  are  neither  jealous  nor  fearful;  jealousy 


160  The  Marriage   Contract. 

is  doubt,  fear  is  meanness.  Unlimited  belief  is  the 
principal  attribute  of  a  great  man.  If  he  is  deceived 
(for  strength  as  well  as  weakness  may  make  a  man  a 
dupe)  hi"s  contempt  will  serve  him  as  an  axe  with 
which  to  cut  through  all.  This  greatness,  however, 
is  the  exception.  Which  of  us  has  not  known  what 
it  is  to  be  abandoned  by  the  spirit  which  sustains  our 
frail  machine,  and  to  hearken  to  that  mysterious  Voice 
denying  all?  Paul,  his  mind  going  over  the  past,  and 
caught  here  and  there  by  irrefutable  facts,  believed 
and  doubted  all.  Lost  in  thought,  a  prey  to  an  awful 
and  involuntary  incredulity,  which  was  combated  by 
the  instincts  of  his  own  pure  love  and  his  faith  in 
Natalie,  he  read  and  re-read  that  wordy  letter,  unable 
to  decide  the  question  which  it  raised  either  for  or 
against  his  wife.  Love  is  sometimes  as  great  and 
true  when  smothered  in  words  as  it  is  in  brief,  strong 
sentences. 

To  understand  the  situation  into  which  Paul  de 
Manerville  was  about  to  enter  we  must  think  of  him 
as  he  was  at  this  moment,  floating  upon  the  ocean  as 
he  floated  upon  his  past,  looking  back  upon  the  years 
of  his  life  as  he  looked  at  the  limitless  water  and 
cloudless  sky  about  him,  and  ending  his  revery  by 
returning,  through  tumults  of  doubt,  to  faith,  the 
pure,  unalloyed  and  perfect  faith  of  the  Christian 
and  the  lover,  which  enforced  the  voice  of  his  faithful 
heart. 

It  is  necessary  to  give  here  his  own  letter  to 
de  Marsay  written  on  leaving  Paris,  to  which  his 
friend  replied  in  the  letter  he  received  through  old 
Mathias  from  the  dock:  — 


The  Marriage   Contract.  1G1 

From    Comte    Paul    de   Manerville   to   Monsieur    le 
Marquis  Henri  de  Marsay : 

Henri,  —  I  have  to  say  to  you  one  of  the  most  vital 
words  a  man  can  say  to  his  friend:  —  I  am  ruined. 
When  you  read  this  I  shall  be  on  the  point  of  sail- 
ing from  Bordeaux  for  Calcutta  on  the  brig  "Belle- 
Amelie." 

You  will  find  in  the  hands  of  your  notary  a  deed 
which  only  needs  your  signature  to  be  legal.  In  it,  I 
lease  my  house  to  you  for  six  years  at  a  nominal  rent. 
Send  a  duplicate  of  that  deed  to  my  wife.  I  am 
forced  to  take  this  precaution  that  Natalie  may  con- 
tinue to  live  in  her  own  home  without  fear  of  being 
driven  out  by  creditors. 

I  also  convey  to  you  by  deed  the  income  of  my  share 
of  the  entailed  property  for  four  years;  the  whole 
amounting  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs, 
which  sum  I  beg  you  to  lend  me  and  to  send  in  a  bill 
of  exchange  on  some  house  in  Bordeaux  to  my  notary, 
Maitre  Mathias.  My  wife  will  give  you  her  signature 
to  this  paper  as  an  endorsement  of  your  claim  to  my 
income.  If  the  revenues  of  the  entail  do  not  pay  this 
loan  as  quickly  as  I  now  expect,  you  and  I  will  settle 
on  my  return.  The  sum  I  ask  for  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  enable  me  to  seek  my  fortune  in  India;  and  if 
I  know  you,  I  shall  receive  it  in  Bordeaux  the  night 
before  I  sail. 

I  have  acted  as  you  would  have  acted  in  my  place. 
I  held  firm  to  the  last  moment,  letting  no  one  suspect 
my  ruin.  Before  the  news  of  the  seizure  of  my  prop- 
erty at  Bordeaux  reached  Paris,  I  had  attempted,  with 
one   hundred   thousand   francs   which  I   obtained    on 

11 


162  The  Marriage   Contract. 

notes,  to  recover  myself  by  play.  Some  lucky  stroke 
might  still  have  saved  me.     I  lost. 

How  have  I  ruined  myself?  By  my  own  will,  Henri. 
From  the  first  month  of  my  married  life  I  saw  that  I 
could  not  keep  up  the  style  in  which  I  started.  I 
knew  the  result;  but  I  chose  to  shut  my  eyes;  I  could 
not  say  to  my  wife,  "We  must  leave  Paris  and  live 
at  Lanstrac."  I  have  ruined  myself  for  her  as  men 
ruin  themselves  for  a  mistress,  but  I  knew  it  all 
along.  Between  ourselves,  I  am  neither  a  fool  nor  a 
weak  man.  A  fool  does  not  let  himself  be  ruled  with 
his  eyes  open  by  a  passion ;  and  a  man  who  starts  for 
India  to  reconstruct  his  fortune,  instead  of  blowing 
out  his  brains,  is  not  weak. 

I  shall  return  rich,  or  I  shall  never  return  at  all. 
Only,  my  dear  friend,  as  I  want  wealth  solely  for  her, 
as  I  must  be  absent  six  years  at  least,  and  as  I  will 
not  risk  being  duped  in  any  way,  I  confide  to  you  my 
wife.  I  know  no  better  guardian.  Being  childless, 
a  lover  might  be  dangerous  to  her.  Henri!  I  love  her 
madly,  basely,  without  proper  pride.  I  would  forgive 
her,  I  think,  an  infidelity,  not  because  I  am  certain  of 
avenging  it,  but  because  I  would  kill  myself  to  leave 
her  free  and  happy  —  since  I  could  not  make  her 
happiness  myself.  But  what  have  I  to  fear?  Natalie 
feels  for  me  that  friendship  which  is  independent  of 
love,  but  which  preserves  love.  I  have  treated  her 
like  a  petted  child.  I  took  such  delight  in  my  sacri- 
fices, one  led  so  naturally  to  another,  that  she  can 
never  be  false ;  she  would  be  a  monster  if  she  were. 
Love  begets  love. 

Alas!  shall  I  tell  you  all,  my  dear  Henri?     I  have 


The  Marriage   Contract.  1G3 

just  written  her  a  letter  in  which  I  let  her  think  that 
I  go  with  heart  of  hope  and  brow  serene ;  that  neither 
jealousy,  nor  doubt,  nor  fear  is  in  my  soul,  —  a  letter, 
in  short,  such  as  a  son  might  write  to  his  mother, 
aware  that  he  was  going  to  his  death.  Good  God !  de 
Marsay,  as  I  wrote  it  hell  was  in  my  soul!  I  am  the 
most  wretched  man  on  earth.  Yes,  yes,  to  you  the 
cries,  to  you  the  grinding  of  my  teeth!  I  avow  my- 
self to  you  a  despairing  lover;  I  would  rather  live 
these  six  years  sweeping  the  streets  beneath  her 
windows  than  return  a  millionnaire  at  the  end  of 
them  —  if  I  could  choose.  I  suffer  agony ;  I  shall 
pass  from  pain  to  pain  until  I  hear  from  you  that 
you  will  take  the  trust  which  you  alone  can  fulfil  or 
accomplish. 

Oh!  my  dear  de  Marsay,  this  woman  is  indispen- 
sable to  my  life;  she  is  my  sun,  my  atmosphere. 
Take  her  under  your  shield  and  buckler,  keep  her 
faithful  to  me,  even  if  she  wills  it  not.  Yes,  I  could 
be  satisfied  with  a  half-happiness.  Be  her  guardian, 
her  chaperon,  for  I  could  have  no  distrust  of  you. 
Prove  to  her  that  in  betraying  me  she  would  do  a  low 
and  vulgar  thing,  and  be  no  better  than  the  common 
run  of  women;  tell  her  that  faithfulness  will  prove 
her  lofty  spirit. 

She  probably  has  fortune  enough  to  continue  her  life 
of  luxury  and  ease.  But  if  she  lacks  a  pleasure,  if 
she  has  caprices  which  she  cannot  satisfy,  be  her 
banker,  and  do  not  fear,  I  will  return  with  wealth. 

But,  after  all,  these  fears  are  vain!  Natalie  is  an 
angel  of  purity  and  virtue.  When  Felix  de  Vande- 
nesse  fell  deeply  in  love  with  her  and  began  to  show 


164  The  Marriage   Contract. 

her  certain  attentions,  I  had  only  to  let  her  see  the 
danger,  and  she  instantly  thanked  me  so  affectionately 
that  I  was  moved  to  tears.  She  said  that  her  dignity 
and  reputation  demanded  that  she  should  not  close  her 
doors  abruptly  to  any  man,  but  that  she  knew  well 
how  to  dismiss  him.  She  did,  in  fact,  receive  him  so 
coldly  that  the  affair  all  ended  for  the  best.  We  have 
never  had  any  other  subject  of  dispute  —  if,  indeed,  a 
friendly  talk  could  be  called  a  dispute  —  in  all  our 
married  life. 

And  now,  my  dear  Henri,  I  bid  you  farewell  in  the 
spirit  of  a  man.  Misfortune  has  come.  No  matter 
what  the  cause,  it  is  here.  I  strip  to  meet  it.  Pov- 
erty and  Natalie  are  two  irreconcilable  terms.  The 
balance  may  be  close  between  my  assets  and  my  lia- 
bilities, but  no  one  shall  have  cause  to  complain  of 
me.  But,  should  any  unforeseen  event  occur  to  im- 
peril my  honor,  I  count  on  you. 

Send  letters  under  cover  to  the  Governor  of  India  at 
Calcutta.  I  have  friendly  relations  with  his  family, 
and  some  one  there  will  care  for  all  letters  that  come 
to  me  from  Europe.  Dear  friend,  I  hope  to  find  you 
the  same  de  Marsay  on  my  return,  —  the  man  who 
scoffs  at  everything  and  yet  is  receptive  of  the  feelings 
of  others  when  they  accord  with  the  grandeur  he  is 
conscious  of  in  himself.  You  stay  in  Paris,  friend; 
but  when  you  read  these  words,  I  shall  be  crying  out, 
" To  Carthage!" 


The  Marriage   Contract.  165 

The  Marquis  Henri   de  Marsay  to    Comte   Paul   de 
Manerville : 

So,  so,  Monsieur  le  comte,  you  have  made  a  wreck  of 
it!  Monsieur  l'ambassadeur  has  gone  to  the  bottom! 
Are  these  the  fine  things  that  you  were  doing  ? 

Why,  Paul,  why  have  you  kept  away  from  me?  If 
you  had  said  a  single  word,  my  poor  old  fellow,  I 
would  have  made  your  position  plain  to  you.  Your 
wife  has  refused  me  her  endorsement.  May  that  one 
word  unseal  your  eyes !  But,  if  that  does  not  suffice, 
learn  that  your  notes  have  been  protested  at  the  insti- 
gation of  a  Sieur  Lecuyer,  formerly  head-clerk  to 
Maitre  Solonet,  a  notary  in  Bordeaux.  That  usurer 
in  embryo  (who  came  from  Gascony  for  jobbery)  is 
the  proxy  of  your  very  honorable  mother-in-law,  who 
is  the  actual  holder  of  your  notes  for  one  hundred 
thousand  francs,  on  which  I  am  told  that  worthy 
woman  doled  out  to  you  only  seventy  thousand. 
Compared  with  Madame  Evangel ista,  papa  Gobseck 
is  flannel,  velvet,  vanilla  cream,  a  sleeping  draught. 
Your  vineyard  of  Belle-Rose  is  to  fall  into  the  clutches 
of  your  wife,  to  whom  her  mother  pays  the  difference 
between  the  price  it  goes  for  at  the  auction  sale  and 
the  amount  of  her  dower  claim  upon  it.  Madame 
Evangelista  will  also  have  the  farms  at  Guadet  and 
Grassol,  and  the  mortgages  on  your  house  in  Bor- 
deaux already  belong  to  her,  in  the  names  of  straw 
men  provided  by  Solonet. 

Thus  these  two  excellent  women  will  make  for 
themselves  a  united  income  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty  thousand  francs  a  year  out  of  your  misfortunes 
and  forced  sale  of  property,  added  to  the  revenue  of 


166  The  Marriage   Contract. 

some  thirty-odd  thousand   on  the   Grand-livre  which 
these  cats  already  possess. 

The  endorsement  of  your  wife  was  not  needed;  for 
this  morning  the  said  Sieur  Lecuyer  came  to  offer  me 
a  return  of  the  sum  I  lent  you  in  exchange  for  a  legal 
transfer  of  my  rights.  The  vintage  of  1825  which 
your  mother-in-law  keeps  in  the  cellars  at  Lanstrac 
will  suffice  to  pay  me. 

These  two  women  have  calculated,  evidently,  that 
you  are  now  upon  the  ocean;  but  I  send  this  letter 
by  courier,  so  that  you  may  have  time  to  follow  the 
advice  I  now  give  you. 

I  made  Lecuyer  talk.  I  disentangled  from  his  lies, 
his  language,  and  his  reticence,  the  threads  I  lacked 
to  bring  to  light  the  whole  plot  of  the  domestic  con- 
spiracy hatched  against  you.  This  evening,  at  the 
Spanish  embassy,  I  shall  offer  my  admiring  compli- 
ments to  your  mother-in-law  and  your  wife.  I  shall 
pay  court  to  Madame  Evangelista ;  I  intend  to  desert 
you  basely,  and  say  sly  things  to  your  discredit,  — 
nothing  openly,  or  that  Mascarille  in  petticoats  would 
detect  my  purpose.  How  did  you  make  her  such  an 
enemy?  That  is  what  I  want  to  know.  If  you  had 
had  the  wit  to  be  in  love  with  that  woman  before  you 
married  her  daughter,  you  would  to-day  be  peer  of 
France,  Due  de  Manerville,  and,  possibly,  ambassador 
to  Madrid. 

If  you  had  come  to  me  at  the  time  of  your  marriage, 
I  would  have  helped  you  to  analyze  and  know  the 
women  to  whom  you  were  binding  yourself;  out  of 
our  mutual  observations  safety  might  have  been  yours. 
But,  instead  of  that,  these  women  judged  me,  became 


The  Marriage   Contract  167 

afraid  of  me,  and  separated  us.  If  you  had  not 
stupidly  given  in  to  them  and  turned  me  the  cold 
shoulder,  they  would  never  have  been  able  to  ruin 
you.  Your  wife  brought  on  the  coldness  between  us, 
instigated  by  her  mother,  to  whom  she  wrote  two 
letters  a  week,  —  a  fact  to  which  you  paid  no  atten- 
tion. I  recognized  my  Paul  when  I  heard  that 
detail. 

Within  a  month  I  shall  be  so  intimate  with  your 
mother-in-law  that  I  shall  hear  from  her  the  reasons  of 
the  hispano-italiano  hatred  which  she  feels  for  you, 
—  for  you,  one  of  the  best  and  kindest  men  on  earth! 
Did  she  hate  you  before  her  daughter  fell  in  love  with 
Felix  de  Vandenesse;  that 's  a  question  in  my  mind. 
If  I  had  not  taken  a  fancy  to  go  to  the  East  with 
Montriveau,  Ronquerolles,  and  a  few  other  good  fel- 
lows of  your  acquaintance,  I  should  have  been  in  a 
position  to  tell  you  something  about  that  affair,  which 
was  beginning  just  as  I  left  Paris.  I  saw  the  first 
gleams  even  then  of  your  misfortune.  But  what 
gentleman  is  base  enough  to  open  such  a  subject 
unless  appealed  to?  Who  shall  dare  to  injure  a 
woman,  or  break  that  illusive  mirror  in  which  his 
friend  delights  in  gazing  at  the  fairy  scenes  of  a  happy 
marriage?     Illusions  are  the  riches  of  the  heart. 

Your  wife,  dear  friend,  is,  I  believe  I  may  say,  in 
the  fullest  acceptation  of  the  word,  a  fashionable 
woman.  She  thinks  of  nothing  but  her  social  suc- 
cess, her  dress,  her  pleasures;  she  goes  to  opera  and 
theatre  and  balls;  she  rises  late  and  drives  to  the 
Bois,  dines  out,  or  gives  a  dinner-party.  Such  a  life 
seems  to  me  for  women  very  much  what  war  is  for 


168  The  Marriage   Contract. 

men;  the  public  sees  only  the  victors;  it  forgets  the 
dead.  Many  delicate  women  perish  in  this  conflict; 
those  who  come  out  of  it  have  iron  constitutions,  con- 
sequently no  heart,  but  good  stomachs.  There  lies 
the  reason  of  the  cold  insensibility  of  social  life. 
Fine  souls  keep  themselves  reserved,  weak  and  tender 
natures  succumb ;  the  rest  are  cobblestones  which  hold 
the  social  ocean  in  its  place,  water-worn  and  rounded 
by  the  tide,  but  never  worn-out.  Your  wife  has 
maintained  that  life  with  ease;  she  looks  made  for  it; 
she  is  always  fresh  and  beautiful.  To  my  mind  the 
deduction  is  plain, — she  has  never  loved  you;  and 
you  have  loved  her  like  a  madman. 

To  strike  out  love  from  that  silicious  nature  a  man  of 
iron  was  needed.  After  standing,  but  without  endur- 
ing, the  shock  of  Lady  Dudley,  Felix  was  the  fitting 
mate  to  Natalie.  There  is  no  great  merit  in  divining 
that  to  you  she  was  indifferent.  In  love  with  her  your- 
self, you  have  been  incapable  of  perceiving  the  cold 
nature  of  a  young  woman  whom  you  have  fashioned 
and  trained  for  a  man  like  Vandenesse.  The  cold- 
ness of  your  wife,  if  you  perceived  it,  you  set  down, 
with  the  stupid  jurisprudence  of  married  people,  to 
the  honor  of  her  reserve  and  her  innocence.  Like  all 
husbands,  you  thought  you  could  keep  her  virtuous 
in  a  society  where  women  whisper  from  ear  to  ear 
that  which  men  are  afraid  to  say. 

No,  your  wife  has  liked  the  social  benefits  she 
derived  from  marriage,  but  the  private  burdens  of  it 
she  found  rather  heavy.  Those  burdens,  that  tax  was 
—  you!  Seeing  nothing  of  all  this,  you  have  gone  on 
digging  your  abysses  (to  use  the  hackneyed  words  of 


The  Marriage   Contract.  169 

rhetoric)  and  covering  them  with  flowers.  You  have' 
mildly  obeyed  the  law  which  rules  the  ruck  of  men ; 
from  which  I  desired  to  protect  you.  Dear  fellow! 
only  one  thing  was  wanting  to  make  you  as  dull  as  the 
bourgeois  deceived  by  his  wife,  who  is  all  astonish- 
ment or  wrath,  and  that  is  that  you  should  talk  to  me 
of  your  sacrifices,  your  love  for  Natalie,  and  chant  that 
psalm:  " Ungrateful  would  she  be  if  she  betrayed  me; 
I  have  done  this,  I  have  done  that,  and  more  will  I 
do ;  I  will  go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  to  the  Indies 
for  her  sake.  I  —  I  —  "  etc.  My  dear  Paul,  have 
you  never  lived  in  Paris,  have  you  never  had  the 
honor  of  belonging  by  the  ties  of  friendship  to  Henri 
de  Marsay,  that  you  should  be  so  ignorant  of  the 
commonest  things,  the  primitive  principles  that  move 
the  feminine  mechanism,  the  a-b-c  of  their  hearts? 
Then  hear  me :  — 

Suppose  you  exterminate  yourself,  suppose  you  go 
to  Saint-Pelagie  for  a  woman's  debts,  suppose  you 
kill  a  score  of  men,  desert  a  dozen  women,  serve  like 
Laban,  cross  the  deserts,  skirt  the  galleys,  cover  your- 
self with  glory,  cover  yourself  with  shame,  refuse, 
like  Nelson,  to  fight  a  battle  till  you  have  kissed  the 
shoulder  of  Lady  Hamilton,  dash  yourself,  like  Bona- 
parte, upon  the  bridge  at  Areola,  go  mad  like  Roland, 
risk  your  life  to  dance  five  minutes  with  a  woman  — 
my  dear  fellow,  what  have  all  those  things  to  do  with 
love?  If  love  were  won  by  samples  such  as  those 
mankind  would  be  too  happy.  A  spurt  of  prowess  at 
the  moment  of  desire  would  give  a  man  the  woman 
that  he  wanted.  But  love,  love^  my  good  Paul,  is  a 
faith  like  that  in  the  Immaculate  conception  of  the 


170  The  Marriage  Contract, 

Holy  Virgin;  it  comes,  or  it  does  not  come.  Will 
the  mines  of  Potosi,  or  the  shedding  of  our  blood,  or 
the  making  of  our  fame  serve  to  waken  an  involuntary, 
an  inexplicable  sentiment?  Young  men  like  you,  who 
expect  to  be  loved  as  the  balance  of  your  account,  are 
nothing  else  than  usurers.  Our  legitimate  wives  owe 
us  virtue  and  children,  but  they  don't  owe  us  love. 

Love,  my  dear  Paul,  is  the  sense  of  pleasure  given 
and  received,  and  the  certainty  of  giving  and  receiv- 
ing it;  love  is  a  desire  incessantly  moving  and  grow- 
ing, incessantly  satisfied  and  insatiable.  The  day 
when  Vandenesse  stirred  the  cord  of  a  desire  in  your 
wife's  heart  which  you  had  left  untouched,  all 
your  self-satisfied  affection,  your  gifts,  your  deeds, 
your  money,  ceased  to  be  even  memories;  one  emo- 
tion of  love  in  your  wife's  heart  has  cast  out  the 
treasures  of  your  own  passion,  which  are  now  nothing 
better  than  old  iron.  Felix  has  the  virtues  and  the  * 
beauties  in  her  eyes,  and  the  simple  moral  is  that 
blinded  by  your  own  love  you  never  made  her  love  you. 

Your  mother-in-law  is  on  the  side  of  the  lover 
against  the  husband,  —  secretly  or  not ;  she  may  have 
closed  her  eyes,  or  she  may  have  opened  them ;  I  know 
not  what  she  has  done  —  but  one  thing  is  certain,  she 
is  for  her  daughter,  and  against  you.  During  the 
fifteen  years  that  I  have  observed  society,  I  have 
never  yet  seen  a  mother  who,  under  such  circum- 
stances, abandons  her  daughter.  This  indulgence 
seems  to  be  an  inheritance  transmitted  in  the  female 
line.  What  man  can  blame  it?  Some  copyist  of  the 
Civil  code,  perhaps,  who  sees  formulas  only  in  the  place 
of  feelings. 


The  Marriage   Contract.  171 

As  for  your  present  position,  the  dissipation  into 
which  the  life  of  a  fashionable  woman  cast  you,  and 
your  own  easy  nature,  possibly  your  vanity,  have 
opened  the  way  for  your  wife  and  her  mother  to  get 
rid  of  you  by  this  ruin  so  skilfully  contrived.  From  all 
of  which  you  will  conclude,  my  good  friend,  that  the 
mission  you  intrusted  to  me,  and  which  I  would  all 
the  more  faithfully  fulfil  because  it  amused  me,  is, 
necessarily,  null  and  void.  The  evil  you  wish  me  to 
prevent  is  accomplished, — consummatum  est. 

Forgive  me,  dear  friend,  if  I  write  to  you,  as  you 
say,  a  la  de  Marsay  on  subjects  which  must  seem  to 
you  very  serious.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  dance  upon 
the  grave  of  a  friend,  like  heirs  upon  that  of  a  pro- 
genitor. But  you  have  written  to  me  that  you  mean 
to  act  the  part  of  a  man,  and  I  believe  you;  I  there- 
fore treat  you  as  a  man  of  the  world,  and  not  as  a 
lover.  For  you,  this  blow  ought  to  be  like  the  brand 
on  the  shoulder  of  a  galley-slave,  which  flings  him 
forever  into  a  life  of  systematic  opposition  to  society. 
You  are  now  freed  cf  one  evil:  marriage  possessed 
you ;  it  now  behooves  you  to  turn  round  and  possess 
marriage. 

Paul,  I  am  your  friend  in  the  fullest  acceptation  of 
the  word.  If  you  had  a  brain  in  an  iron  skull,  if  you 
had  the  energy  which  has  come  to  you  too  late,  I 
would  have  proved  my  friendship  by  telling  you  things 
that  would  have  made  you  walk  upon  humanity  as 
upon  a  carpet.  But  when  I  did  talk  to  you  guardedly 
of  Parisian  civilization,  when  I  told  you  in  the  dis- 
guise of  fiction  some  of  the  actual  adventures  of  my 
youth,  you  regarded  them  as  mere  romance  and  would 


172  The  Marriage   Contract. 

not  see  their  bearing.  When  I  told  you  that  history 
of  a  lawyer  at  the  galleys  branded  for  forgery,  who 
committed  the  crime  to  give  his  wife,  adored  like 
yours,  an  income  of  thirty  thousand  francs,  and  whom 
his  wife  denounced  that  she  might  be  rid  of  him  and 
free  to  love  another  man,  you  exclaimed,  and  other 
fools  who  were  supping  with  us  exclaimed  against 
me.  Well,  my  dear  Paul,  you  were  that  lawyer,  less 
the  galleys. 

Your  friends  here  are  not  sparing  you.  The  sister 
of  the  two  Vandenesses,  the  Marquise  de  Listomere 
and  all  her  set,  in  which,  by  the  bye,  that  little 
Rastignac  has  enrolled  himself,  —  the  scamp  will 
make  his  way!  —  Madame  d'Aiglemont  and  her  salon, 
the  Lenoncourts,  the  Comtesse  Ferraud,  Madame 
d'Espard,  the  Nucingens,  the  Spanish  ambassador,  in 
short,  all  the  cliques  in  society  are  flingiug  mud  upon 
you.  You  are  a  bad  man,  a  gambler,  a  dissipated 
fellow  who  has  squandered  his  property.  After  pay- 
ing your  debts  a  great  many  times,  your  wife,  an  angel 
of  virtue,  has  just  redeemed  your  notes  for  one  hun- 
dred thousand  francs,  although  her  property  was  sep- 
arate from  yours.  Luckily,  you  had  done  the  best 
you  could  do  by  disappearing.  If  you  had  stayed 
here  you  would  have  made  her  bed  in  the  straw;  the 
poor  woman  would  have  been  the  victim  of  her 
conjugal  devotion! 

When  a  man  attains  to  power,  my  dear  Paul,  he 
has  all  the  virtues  of  an  epitaph;  let  him  fall  into 
poverty,  and  he  has  more  sins  than  the  Prodigal  Son; 
society  at  the  present  moment  gives  you  the  vices  of 
a  Don  Juan.     You  gambled  at  the  Bourse,  you  had 


The  Marriage   Contract.  173 

licentious  tastes  which  cost  you  fabulous  sums  of 
money  to  gratify;  you  paid  enormous  interests  to 
money-lenders.  The  two  Vandenesses  have  told 
everywhere  how  Gigonnet  gave  you  for  six  thousand 
francs  an  ivory  frigate,  and  made  your  valet  buy 
it  back  for  three  hundred  in  order  to  sell  it  to  you 
again.  The  incident  did  really  happen  to  Maxime  de 
Trailles  about  nine  years  ago ;  but  it  fits  your  present 
circumstances  so  well  that  Maxime  has  forever  lost 
the  command  of  his  frigate. 

In  short,  I  can't  tell  you  one-half  that  is  said;  you 
have  supplied  a  whole  encyclopaedia  of  gossip  which 
the  women  have  an  interest  in  swelling.  Your  wife 
is  having  an  immense  success.  Last  evening  at  the 
opera  Madame  Firmiani  began  to  repeat  to  me  some 
of  the  things  that  are  being  said.  "Don't  talk  of 
that,"  I  replied.  "You  know  nothing  of  the  real 
truth,  you  people.  Paul  has  robbed  the  Bank,  cheated 
the  Treasury,  murdered  Ezzelin  and  three  Medoras  in 
the  rue  Saint-Denis,  and  I  think,  between  ourselves, 
that  he  is  a  member  of  the  Dix-Mille.  His  associate 
is  the  famous  Jacques  Collin,  on  whom  the  police 
have  been  unable  to  lay  a  hand  since  he  escaped  from 
the  galleys.  Paul  gave  him  a  room  in  his  house;  you 
see  he  is  capable  of  anything ;  in  fact,  the  two  have 
gone  off  to  India  together  to  rob  the  Great  Mogul." 
Madame  Firmiani,  like  the  distinguished  woman  that 
she  is,  saw  that  she  ought  not  to  convert  her  beautiful 
lips  into  a  mouthpiece  for  false  denunciation. 

Many  persons,  when  they  hear  of  these  tragi-come- 
dies  of  life,  refuse  to  believe  them.  They  take  the 
side  of  human  nature  and  fine  sentiments ;  they  declare 


174  The  Marriage   Contract. 

that  these  things  do  not  exist.  But  Talleyrand  said 
a  fine  thing,  my  dear  fellow:  "All  things  happen." 
Truly,  things  happen  under  our  very  noses  which  are 
more  amazing  than  this  domestic  plot  of  yours;  but 
society  has  an  interest  in  denying  them,  and  in  declar- 
ing itself  calumniated.  Often  these  dramas  are  played 
so  naturally  and  with  such  a  varnish  of  good  taste  that 
even  I  have  to  rub  the  lens  of  my  opera-glass  to  see 
to  the  bottom  of  them.  But,  I  repeat  to  you,  when 
a  man  is  a  friend  of  mine,  when  we  have  received 
together  the  baptism  of  champagne  and  have  knelt 
together  before  the  altar  of  the  Venus  Commodus, 
when  the  crooked  fingers  of  play  have  given  us  their 
benediction,  if  that  man  finds  himself  in  a  false  posi- 
tion I  'd  ruin  a  score  of  families  to  do  him  justice. 

You  must  be  aware  from  all  this  that  I  love  you. 
Have  I  ever  in  my  life  written  a  letter  as  long  as  this  ? 
No.  Therefore,  read  with  attention  what  I  still  have 
to  say. 

Alas !  Paul,  I  shall  be  forced  to  take  to  writing,  for 
I  am  taking  to  politics.  I  am  going  into  public  life. 
I  intend  to  have,  within  five  years,  the  portfolio  of  a 
ministry  or  some  embassy.  There  comes  an  age  when 
the  only  mistress  a  man  can  serve  is  his  country.  I 
enter  the  ranks  of  those  who  intend  to  upset  not  only 
the  ministry,  but  the  whole  present  system  of  govern- 
ment. In  short,  I  swim  in  the  waters  of  a  certain 
prince  who  is  lame  of  the  foot  only,  —  a  man  whom  I 
regard  as  a  statesman  of  genius  whose  name  will  go 
down  to  posterity;  a  prince  as  complete  in  his  way 
as  a  great  artist  may  be  in  his. 

Several  of  us,  Ronquerolles,  Montriveau,  the  Grand- 


The  Marriage   Contract.  175 

lieus,  La  Roche-Hugon,  Serisy,  Feraucl,  and  Granville, 
have  allied  ourselves  against  the  "parti-pretre,"  as 
the  party-ninny  represented  by  the  "Constitutionnel " 
has  ingeniously  said.  We  intend  to  overturn  the 
Navarreins,  Lenoncourts,  Vandenesses,  and  the  Grand 
Almonry.  In  order  to  succeed  we  shall  even  ally  our- 
selves with  Lafayette,  the  Orleanists,  and  the  Left,  — 
people  whom  we  can  throttle  on  the  morrow  of  victory, 
for  no  government  in  the  world  is  possible  with  their 
principles.  We  are  capable  of  anything  for  the  good 
of  the  country  —  and  our  own. 

Now,  then,  my  dear  Paul,  instead  of  setting  sail  for 
India  you  would  do  a  much  wiser  thing  to  navigate 
with  me  the  waters  of  the  Seine.  Believe  me,  Paris 
is  still  the  place  where  fortune,  abundant  fortune,  can 
be  won.  Potosi  is  in  the  rue  Vivienne,  the  rue  de  la 
Paix,  the  Place  Vendome,  the  rue  de  Rivoli.  In  all 
other  places  and  countries  material  works  and  labors, 
marches  and  counter-marches,  and  sweatings  of  the 
brow  are  necessary  to  the  building  up  of  fortune;  but 
in  Paris  thought  suffices.  Here,  every  man  even 
mentally  mediocre,  can  see  a  mine  of  wealth  as  he 
puts  on  his  slippers,  or  picks  his  teeth  after  dinner,  in 
his  down-sitting  and  his  up-rising.  Find  me  another 
place  on  the  globe  where  a  good  round  stupid  idea 
brings  in  more  money,  or  is  sooner  understood  than 
it  is  here. 

If  I  reach  the  top  of  the  ladder,  as  I  shall,  am  I  the 
man  to  refuse  you  a  helping  hand,  an  influence,  a 
signature?  We  shall  want,  we  young  roues,  a  faith- 
ful friend  on  whom  to  count,  if  only  to  compromise 
Lim  and  make  him  a  scape-goat,  or  send  him  to  die 


176  The  Marriage   Contract. 

like  a  common  soldier  to  save  his  general.  Govern- 
ment is  impossible  without  a  man  of  honor  at  one's 
side,  in  whom  to  confide  and  with  whom  we  can  do 
and  say  everything. 

Here  is  what  I  propose.  Let  the  " Belle- Amelie  " 
sail  without  you;  come  back  here  like  a  thunderbolt; 
I  '11  arrange  a  duel  for  you  with  Vandenesse  in  which 
you  shall  have  the  first  shot,  and  you  can  wing  him 
like  a  pigeon.  In  France  the  husband  who  shoots  his 
rival  becomes  at  once  respectable  and  respected.  No 
one  ever  cavils  at  him  again.  Fear,  my  dear  fellow, 
is  a  valuable  social  element,  a  means  of  success  for 
those  who  lower  their  eyes  before  the  gaze  of  no  man 
living.  I  who  care  as  little  to  live  as  to  drink  a  glass 
of  milk,  and  who  have  never  felt  the  emotion  of  fear, 
I  have  remarked  the  strange  effects  produced  by  that 
sentiment  upon  our  modern  manners.  Some  men 
tremble  to  lose  the  enjoyments  to  which  they  are 
attached,  others  dread  to  leave  a  woman.  The  old 
adventurous  habits  of  other  days  when  life  was  flung 
away  like  a  garment  exist  no  longer.  The  bravery 
of  a  great  many  men  is  nothing  more  than  a  clever 
calculation  on  the  fear  of  their  adversary.  The  Poles 
are  the  only  men  in  Europe  who  fight  for  the  pleasure 
of  fighting;  they  cultivate  the  art  for  the  art's  sake, 
and  not  for  speculation. 

Now  hear  me:  kill  Vandenesse,  and  your  wife 
trembles,  your  mother-in-law  trembles,  the  public 
trembles,  and  you  recover  your  position,  you  prove 
your  grand  passion  for  your  wife,  you  subdue  society, 
you  subdue  your  wife,  you  become  a  hero.  Such  is 
France.     As  for  your  embarrassments,  I  hold  a  hun- 


The  Marriage   Contract.  177 

dred  thousand  francs  for  you;  you  can  pay  your  prin- 
cipal debts,  and  sell  what  property  you  have  left  with 
a  power  of  redemption,  for  you  will  soon  obtain  an 
office  which  will  enable  you  by  degrees  to  pay  off  your 
creditors.  Then,  as  for  your  wife,  once  enlightened 
as  to  her  character  you  can  rule  her.  When  you  loved 
her  you  had  no  power  to  manage  her;  not  loving  her, 
you  will  have  an  unconquerable  force.  I  will  under- 
take, myself,  to  make  your  mother-in-law  as  supple  as 
a  glove ;  for  you  must  recover  the  use  of  the  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  francs  a  year  those  two  women  have 
squeezed  out  of  you. 

Therefore,  I  say,  renounce  this  expatriation  which 
seems  to  me  no  better  than  a  pan  of  charcoal  or  a 
pistol  to  your  head.  To  go  away  is  to  justify  all 
calumnies.  The  gambler  who  leaves  the  table  to  get 
his  money  loses  it  when  he  returns ;  we  must  have  our 
gold  in  our  pockets.  Let  us  now,  you  and  I,  be  two 
gamblers  on  the  green  baize  of  politics;  between  us 
loans  are  in  order.  Therefore  take  post-horses,  come 
back  instantly,  and  renew  the  game.  You  '11  win  it 
with  Henri  de  Marsay  for  your  partner,  for  Henri  de 
Marsay  knows  how  to  will,  and  how  to  strike. 

See  how  we  stand  politically.  My  father  is  in  the 
British  ministry;  we  shall  have  close  relations  with 
Spain  through  the  Evangelistas,  for,  as  soon  as  your 
mother-in-law  and  I  have  measured  claws  she  will  find 
there  is  nothing  to  gain  by  fighting  the  devil.  Mon- 
triveau  is  our  lieutenant-general;  he  will  certainly 
be  minister  of  war  before  long,  and  his  eloquence  will 
give    him   great   ascendency   in  the  Chamber.     Ron- 

querolles  will  be  minister   of  State  and  privy-coun- 

12 


178  The  Marriage  Contract. 

cillor;  Martial  de  la  Roche-Hugon  is  minister  to 
Germany  and  peer  of  France ;  Serisy  leads  the  Coun- 
cil of  State,  to  which  he  is  indispensable;  Granville 
holds  the  magistracy,  to  which  his  sons  belong;  the 
Grandlieus  stand  well  at  court;  Ferraud  is  the  soul 
of  the  Gondreville  coterie,  —  low  intriguers  who  are 
always  on  the  surface  of  things,  I  'm  sure  I  don't 
know  why.  Thus  supported,  what  have  we  to  fear? 
The  money  question  is  a  mere  nothing  when  this  great 
wheel  of  fortune  rolls  for  us.  What  is  a  woman?  — 
you  are  not  a  schoolboy.  What  is  life,  my  dear  fel- 
low, if  you  let  a  woman  be  the  whole  of  it?  A  boat 
you  can't  command,  without  a  rudder,  but  not  with- 
out a  magnet,  and  tossed  by  every  wind  that  blows. 
Pah! 

The  great  secret  of  social  alchemy,  my  dear  Paul,  is 
to  get  the  most  we  can  out  of  each  age  of  life  through 
which  we  pass;  to  have  and  to  hold  the  buds  of  our 
spring,  the  flowers  of  our  summer,  the  fruits  of  our 
autumn.  We  amused  ourselves  once,  a  few  good  fel- 
lows and  I,  for  a  dozen  or  more  years,  like  mousque- 
taires,  black,  red,  and  gray;  we  denied  ourselves 
nothing,  not  even  an  occasional  filibustering  here  and 
there.  Now  we  are  going  to  shake  down  the  plums 
which  age  and  experience  have  ripened.  Be  one  of 
us;  you  shall  have  your  share  in  the  pudding  we  are 
going  to  cook. 

Come ;  you  will  find  a  friend  all  yours  in  the  skin  of 

H.  de  Marsay. 

As  Paul  de  Manerville  ended  the  reading:  of  this 
letter,  which  fell  like  the  blows  of  a  pickaxe  on  the 


The  Marriage   Contract.  179 

edifice  of  bis  hopes,  his  illusions,  and  his  love,  the  ves- 
sel which  bore  him  from  France  was  beyond  the 
Azores.  In  the  midst  of  this  utter  devastation  a  cold 
and  impotent  anger  laid  hold  of  him. 

"  What  had  I  done  to  them  ?  "  he  said  to  himself. 

That  is  the  question  of  fools,  of  feeble  beings,  who, 
seeing  nothing,  can  nothing  foresee.  Then  he  cried 
aloud:  "Henri!  Henri!"  to  his  loyal  friend.  Many 
a  man  would  have  gone  mad;  Paul  went  to  bed  and 
slept  that  heavy  sleep  which  follows  immense  disas- 
ters, —  the  sleep  that  seized  Napoleon  after  Waterloo. 


A  DOUBLE  LIFE. 


A     DOUBLE     LIFE. 


To  Madame  la  Comtesse  Louise  de  Turheim, 

As     A    MARK    OP     REMEMBRANCE     AND     AFFECTIONATE      RESPECT 
FROM   HER   HUMBLE    SERVANT, 

De  Balzac. 
I. 

THE    SECOND    LIFE. 

The  rue  du  Tourniquet-Saint-Jean,  formerly  one  of 
the  darkest  and  most  tortuous  streets  of  the  old  quar- 
ter of  Paris  which  encircles  the  Hotel-de-Ville,  wound 
round  the  little  gardens  of  the  prefecture  till  it  ended 
in  the  rue  du  Martroi  at  the  angle  of  an  old  wall,  now 
pulled  down.  Here  could  be  seen  the  turnstile  to 
which  the  street  owed  its  name,  a  relic  of  the  past 
that  was  not  destroyed  until  1823,  when  the  city  of 
Paris  caused  to  be  constructed  on  the  site  of  a  little 
garden  belonging  to  the  H6tel-de-Ville  a  splendid 
ball-room  for  the  fete  given  to  the  Due  d'Angouleme 
on  his  return  from  Spain. 

The  widest  part  of  the  rue  du  Tourniquet  was  near 
its  junction  with  the  rue  de  la  Tixeranderie,  where 
it  was  only  five  feet  wide.  Consequently,  in  rainy 
weather  the  blackened  water  of  the  gutter  washed  the 
feet  of  the  old  houses,  bringing  along  with  it  the  filth 
and  refuse  deposited  by  each  household  at  the  various 


184  A  Double  Life, 

posts  along  the  street.  The  carts  for  tbe  removal  of 
such  rubbish  could  not  enter  the  narrow  way,  and  the 
dwellers  thereon  reckoned  upon  the  storms  of  heaven 
to  cleanse  their  ever-muddy  street  —  though  it  never 
could  be  clean.  When  the  summer  sun  struck  ver- 
tically down,  a  line  of  gold,  sharp  as  the  blade  of  a 
sabre,  illuminated  momentarily  the  darkness  of  the 
street,  but  without  drying  the  perpetual  dampness 
which  reigned  from  the  ground-floor  to  the  next  floor 
of  these  dark  and  silent  houses. 

The  inhabitants,  who  lighted  their  lamps  at  five 
o'clock  in  the  month  of  June,  never  put  them  out  in 
winter.  Even  to-day,  if  some  courageous  pedestrian 
ventures  to  go  from  the  Marais  to  the  quays  by  taking, 
at  the  end  of  the  rue  du  Chaume,  the  several  streets 
named  L'Homme  Arme,  Des  Billettes,  and  Des  Deux- 
Portes,  which  lead  into  that  of  the  Tourniquet-Saint- 
Jean,  he  will  fancy  he  has  been  walking  through  a 
crypt  or  cellar. 

Nearly  all  the  streets  of  the  old  Paris  resembled 
this  damp  and  sombre  labyrinth,  where  antiquaries 
can  still  find  several  historical  singularities  to  admire. 
For  instance,  when  the  house  which  stood  at  the  cor- 
ner of  the  rue  du  Tourniquet  and  the  rue  de  la  Tixer- 
anderie  still  existed,  observers  would  have  noticed 
two  heavy  iron  rings  built  into  the  wall,  a  remnant  of 
the  chains  which  the  watchman  of  the  quarter  put  up 
each  night  as  a  measure  of  public  safety. 

This  house,  remarkable  for  its  antiquity,  had  been 
built  with  precautions  which  fully  proved  the  unhealth- 
iness  of  these  old  dwellings ;  for,  in  order  to  sweeten 
the  ground-floor,  the  walls  of  the  cellar  were  raised 


A  Double  Life,  185 

fully  two  feet  above  the  level  of  the  soil,  which  neces- 
sitated a  rise  of  three  steps  in  order  to  enter  the  house. 
The  door-casing  described  a  semicircular  arch,  the 
apex  of  which  was  adorned  with  the  carving  of  a 
woman's  head  and  sundry  arabesques,  much  injured 
by  time.  Three  windows,  the  sills  of  which  were 
about  on  a  level  with  a  man's  head,  belonged  to  a 
small  apartment  on  the  ground-floor  looking  on  the 
rue  du  Tourniquet.  These  windows  were  protected  by 
strong  iron  bars  placed  far  apart,  ending  in  a  round 
projection  like  those  of  a  baker's  grating. 

If  any  inquisitive  pedestrian  had  cast  his  eyes  upon 
the  two  rooms  of  this  apartment  in  the  daytime,  he 
could  have  seen  nothing  within  them ;  a  July  sun  was 
needed  to  distinguish  in  the  second  room  two  beds 
draped  with  green  serge  under  the  panelled  ceiling  of 
an  old  alcove.  But  in  the  afternoons,  toward  three 
o'clock,  when  a  lamp  was  lighted,  it  was  possible  to 
see  through  the  window  of  the  first  room  an  old  woman 
sitting  on  a  stool  at  the  corner  of  a  fireplace,  where  she 
was,  at  that  hour,  stirring  something  in  a  chafing-dish 
which  resembled  those  stews  that  Parisian  portresses 
know  so  well  how  to  concoct.  A  few  kitchen  utensils 
hanginsf  on  the  wall  at  the  end  of  this  room  could  be 
seen  in  the  half-light.  An  old  table,  standing  on 
three  legs  and  devoid  of  linen,  held  knives  and  forks 
and  pewter  plates,  and,  presently,  the  dish  which  the 
old  crone  was  cooking.  Three  miserable  chairs  fur- 
nished the  room,  which  served  the  inhabitants  for 
kitchen  and  dining-room.  Over  the  fireplace  was  a 
fragment  of  mirror,  a  tinder-box,  three  glasses,  some 
sulphur  matches,  and  a  large  white  pot,  much  cracked. 


186  A  Double  Life, 

The  tiled  floor  of  the  hearth,  the  utensils,  the  fireplace, 
were  pleasing  to  the  eye  from  the  evident  spirit  of 
neatness  and  economy  which  reigned  in  that  cold,  dark 
home. 

The  pale  and  wrinkled  face  of  the  old  woman  was  in 
keeping  with  the  gloom  of  the  street  and  the  mould  i- 
ness  of  the  building.  One  might  have  thought,  to  see 
her  seated  in  her  chair  when  doing  nothing,  that  she 
stuck  to  the  house  as  a  snail  to  its  shell.  Her  face, 
in  which  a  vague  expression  of  malice  underlay  an 
assumed  good-humor,  was  topped  by  a  flat  tulle  cap, 
which  scarcely  covered  her  white  hair;  her  large  gray 
eyes  were  as  still  as  the  street,  and  the  many  wrinkles 
on  her  skin  might  be  compared  to  the  cracks  and 
crevices  of  the  walls.  Whether  she  was  born  to 
poverty,  or  whether  she  had  fallen  from  some  better 
estate,  she  now  seemed  long  resigned  to  her  melan- 
choly existence.  From  sunrise  till  evening,  except 
while  preparing  the  meals,  or,  basket  in  hand,  she 
went  out  for  provisions,  this  old  creature  spent  her 
time  in  the  adjoining  room,  before  the  third  window 
and  opposite  to  a  young  girl. 

At  all  hours  of  the  day  this  young  girl,  sitting  in  an 
old  arm-chair  covered  with  red  velvet,  her  head  bent 
down  over  an  embroidery-frame,  worked  industriously. 
Her  mother  had  a  green  tambour-frame  on  her  lap  and 
seemed  to  be  making  tulle;  but  her  fingers  moved  the 
bobbins  stiffly,  and  her  sight  was  evidently  failing, 
for  her  nose,  of  three-score  years  and  over,  bore  a  pair 
of  those  old-fashioned  spectacles  which  hold  to  the  tips 
of  the  nostrils  according  to  the  force  with  which  they 
are  pinched  on.    At  night,  these  two  laborious  creatures 


A  Double  Life.  187 

placed  a  lamp  between  them;  the  light  of  which,  fall- 
ing through  two  glass  globes  filled  with  water,  threw 
a  strong  ray  upon  their  work,  which  enabled  the  old 
woman  to  see  the  looser  strands  of  the  bobbins  of  her 
tambour,  and  the  young  girl  the  more  delicate  parts  of 
the  pattern  she  was  embroidering. 

The  curve  of  the  iron  bars  had  enabled  the  girl  to 
put  on  the  sill  of  the  window  a  long  wooden  box 
filled  with  earth ;  in  which  were  vegetating  sweet-peas, 
nasturtiums,  a  sickly  honeysuckle,  and  a  few  convol- 
ving whose  weakly  tendrils  were  clinging  to  the  bars. 
These  etiolated  plants  produced  a  few  pale  flowers; 
another  feature  strangely  in  keeping,  which  mingled 
I  scarcely  know  what  of  sweetness  and  of  sadness  in 
the  picture,  framed  by  the  window,  of  those  toiling 
figures.  A  mere  glance  at  that  interior  would  have 
given  the  most  self-absorbed  pedestrian  a  perfect 
image  of  the  life  led  by  the  work- women  of  Paris; 
for  it  was  evident  that  the  girl  lived  solely  by  her 
needle.  Many  persons  reaching  the  turnstile  had  won- 
dered how  any  young  creature  living  in  that  noisome 
place  could  have  kept  the  bright  colors  of  youth.  The 
lively  imagination  of  a  student  on  his  way  to  the 
"pays  latin"  might  have  compared  this  dark  and 
vegetative  life  to  that  of  ivy  draping  a  cold  stone- 
wall, or  to  that  of  peasants  born  to  toil,  who  labor 
and  die  ignored  by  the  world  they  have  contributed  to 
feed.  A  man  of  property  said  to  himself  as  he  looked 
at  the  house  with  the  eye  of  an  owner :  — 

"What  would  become  of  those  two  women  if  em- 
broidery should  go  out  of  fashion  ?  " 

Among  the  persons  whose  duty  took  them  at  fixed 


188  A  Double  Life. 

hours  through  this  narrow  way,  either  to  the  Hotel  de 
Ville  or  to  the  Palais,  some  might  perhaps  have  been 
found,  whose  interest  in  the  sight  would  take  a  more 
selfish  view  of  it;  some  widower,  perhaps,  or  some 
elderly  Adonis  might  have  thought  that  the  evident 
distress  of  the  mother  aud  daughter  would  make  the 
inuocent  work-girl  a  cheap  and  easy  bargain.  Or  per- 
haps some  worthy  clerk  with  a  salary  of  twelve  hun- 
dred francs  a  year,  the  daily  witness  of  the  girl's 
industrious  ardor,  might  have  reckoned  from  that  the 
purity  of  her  life  and  have  dreamed  of  uniting  one 
obscure  life  to  another  obscure  life,  one  plodding  toil 
to  another  as  laborious,  —  bringing  at  any  rate  the  arm 
of  a  man  to  sustain  existence,  and  a  peaceful  love, 
colorless  as  the  flowers  in  the  window. 

Such  vague  hopes  did  at  times  brighten  the  dull 
gray  eyes  of  the  old  mother.  In  the  morning,  after 
their  humble  breakfast,  she  would  take  her  tambour- 
frame  (more  for  appearances,  it  would  seem,  than  for 
actual  work,  because  she  laid  down  her  spectacles  on 
the  table  beside  her)  and  proceeded  to  watch  from 
half-past  eight  to  about  ten  o'clock  all  the  habitual 
passers  through  the  street  at  that  hour.  She  noted 
their  glances;  made  observations  on  their  demeanor, 
their  dress,  their  countenances;  she  seemed  to  bargain 
with  them  for  her  daughter,  so  eagerly  did  her  keen 
eyes  seek  to  open  communications,  by  manoeuvres  like 
those  behind  the  scenes  of  a  theatre.  To  her  this 
morning  review  was  indeed  a  play;  perhaps  it  was 
her  only  pleasure. 

The  daughter  seldom  raised  her  head:  modesty,  or 
perhaps  the  painful  sense  of  poverty,  kept  her  eyes 


A  Double  Life.  189 

closely  fixed  upon  her  work;  so  that  sometimes,  in 
order  to  make  her  show  her  face  to  a  passer  in  the 
street,  her  mother  would  give  a  cry  of  surprise.  A 
clerk  with  a  new  overcoat,  or  an  habitual  passer 
appearing  with  a  woman  on  his  arm  might  then  have 
beheld  the  slightly  turned-up  nose  of  the  little  work- 
girl,  her  rosy  mouth,  and  her  gray  eyes,  sparkling 
with  life  in  spite  of  her  crushing  toil.  Those  wakeful, 
laborious  nights  were  only  shown  by  the  more  or  less 
white  circle  beneath  the  eyes  on  the  fresh,  pure  skin 
above  the  cheek-bones.  The  poor  young  thing  seemed 
born  for  love  and  gayety,  —  for  love,  which  had 
painted  above  her  rounded  e}relids  two  perfect  arches, 
and  had  given  her  such  a  forest  of  chestnut  hair  that 
she  might  have  hidden  her  whole  person  under  its 
impenetrable  veil ;  for  gayety,  which  moved  her  ex- 
pressive nostrils,  and  made  two  dimples  in  her  glow- 
ing cheeks,  —  for  ga}Tety,  that  flower  of  hope,  which 
gave  her  strength  to  look  without  faltering  at  the 
barren  path  of  life  before  her. 

The  beautiful  hair  of  the  girl  was  always  carefully 
arranged.  Like  all  other  work-women  of  Paris,  she 
thought  her  toilet  complete  when  she  had  braided 
and  smoothed  her  hair  and  had  twirled  into  circles  the 
two  little  locks  on  either  side  of  the  temples,  the  effect 
of  which  was  to  set  off  the  whiteness  of  her  skin. 
The  way  her  hair  grew  upon  her  head  was  so  full  of 
grace,  the  bistre  line  clearly  defined  upon  her  neck 
gave  so  charming  an  idea  of  her  youth  and  its  attrac- 
tions, that  an  observer  beholding  her  as  she  bent  over 
her  work,  not  raising  her  head  at  any  noise,  would 
have  put  down  such  apparent  unconsciousness  to 
coquetry. 


190  A  Double  Life. 

"Caroline,  there  's  a  new  regular  man!  none  of  the 
old  ones  compare  with  him." 

These  words,  said  in  a  low  voice  by  the  mother  one 
morning  in  the  month  of  August,  1815,  conquered, 
apparently,  the  indifference  of  the  girl,  for  she  looked 
into  the  street;  but  the  new  man  was  nearly  out  of 
sight. 

"Which  way  did  he  go?  "  she  asked. 

"He  '11  be  back,  no  doubt,  about  four  o'clock.  I 
shall  see  him  coming  and  I  '11  kick  your  foot.  I  'm 
certain  he  '11  come  back,  for  it  is  now  three  days  since 
he  took  to  coming  through  the  street.  But  he  is  n't 
regular  as  to  time.  The  first  day  he  came  at  six,  next 
day  it  was  four,  yesterday  five.  I  am  sure  I  have 
seen  him  at  some  time  or  other,  elsewhere.  I  dare  say 
he's  a  clerk  at  the  prefecture  who  has  gone  to  live 
in  the  Marais  —  Oh,  look  here !  "  she  added,  after 
glancing  into  the  street,  "our  monsieur  with  the  brown 
coat  has  taken  to  a  wig !  Heavens !  how  it  does  change 
him ! " 

The  monsieur  with  the  brown  coat  must  have  been 
the  last  of  the  habitues  who  formed  the  daily  proces- 
sion, for  the  old  mother  now  put  on  her  spectacles, 
resumed  her  work  with  a  sigh,  and  looked  at  her 
daughter  with  so  singular  an  expression  that  Lavater 
himself  would  have  been  puzzled  to  analyze  it,  — 
admiration,  gratitude,  a  sort  of  hope  for  better  things, 
mingled  with  the  pride  of  possessing  so  pretty  a 
daughter. 

That  evening,  about  four  o'clock,  the  old  woman 
pushed  the  girl's  foot,  and  Caroline  raised  her  head 
in  time  to  see  the  new  actor  whose  periodical  passing 


A  Double  Life.  191 

was  now  to  enliven  the  scene  of  their  lives.  Tall, 
thin,  pale,  and  dressed  in  black,  the  man,  who  was 
about  forty  years  old,  had  something  solemn  in  his 
gait  and  demeanor.  When  his  tawny,  piercing  eye 
met  the  curious  glance  of  the  old  woman,  it  made 
her  tremble;  and  she  fancied  he  had  the  gift,  or  the 
habit,  of  reading  hearts.  Certainly  his  first  aspect 
was  chilling  as  the  air  itself  of  that  gloomy  street. 

Was  the  cadaverous,  discolored  complexion  of  that 
haggard  face  the  result  of  excessive  toil,  or  the 
product  of  enfeebled  health?  This  problem  was  solved 
by  the  old  mother  in  a  score  of  different  ways.  But 
the  next  day,  Caroline  divined  at  once  that  the 
wrinkled  brow  bore  signs  of  long-continued  men- 
tal suffering.  The  slightly  hollowed  cheeks  of  the 
stranger  bore  an  imprint  of  that  seal  with  which  mis- 
fortune marks  its  vassals,  as  if  to  leave  them  the  con- 
solation of  recognizing  one  another  with  fraternal  eye, 
and  uniting  together  to  resist  it. 

The  warmth  of  the  weather  happened  at  this  moment 
to  be  so  great,  and  the  stranger  was  so  absent-minded, 
that  he  omitted  to  put  on  his  hat  while  passing  through 
the  unhealthy  street.  Caroline  then  noticed  the  stern 
aspect  given  to  the  face  by  the  cut  of  the  hair,  which 
stood  up  from  his  forehead  like  a  brush.  Though  the 
girl's  eyes  were  first  brightened  by  innocent  curiosity, 
they  took  a  tender  expression  of  sympathy  and  pity 
as  the  stranger  passed  on,  like  the  last  mourner  in  a 
funeral  procession. 

The  strong,  but  not  pleasing,  impression  felt  by 
Caroline  at  the  sight  of  this  man  resembled  none  of 
the  sensations  which  the  other  habitual  passers  had 


192  A  Double  Life. 

conveyed  to  her.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  her 
compassion  was  aroused  for  another  than  her  mother 
and  herself.  She  made  no  reply  to  the  fanciful  conjec- 
tures which  furnished  food  for  the  irritating  loquacity 
of  the  old  woman,  but  silently  drew  her  long  needle 
above  and  below  the  tulle  in  her  frame;  she  regretted 
that  she  had  not  seen  more  of  the  unknown  man,  and 
waited  until  the  morrow  to  make  up  her  mind  more 
decisively  about  him.  For  the  first  time,  too,  a  passer 
beneath  the  window  had  suggested  reflections  to  her 
mind.  Usually  she  replied  with  a  quiet  smile  to  the 
various  suppositions  of  her  mother,  who  was  always 
in  hopes  of  finding  a  protector  for  her  child  among 
these  strangers.  If  such  ideas,  imprudently  expressed, 
awoke  no  evil  thoughts  in  the  girl's  mind,  we  must 
attribute  Caroline's  indifference  to  the  cruelly  hard 
work  which  consumed  the  forces  of  her  precious  youth, 
and  must  infallibly  change  ere  long  the  limpid  light 
of  her  eyes  and  ravish  from  those  fair  cheeks  the 
tender  color  which  still  brightened  them. 

For  two  whole  months  the  "black  monsieur"  — 
such  was  the  name  they  gave  him  —  passed  through  the 
street  almost  daily,  but  capriciously  as  to  time.  The 
old  woman  often  saw  him  at  night  when  he  had  not 
passed  in  the  morning;  also  he  never  returned  at  the 
fixed  hours  of  other  employees,  who  served  as  clocks 
to  Madame  Crochard,  and  never,  since  the  first  day 
when  his  glance  had  inspired  the  old  mother  with  a 
sort  of  terror,  had  his  eyes  appeared  to  take  notice  of 
the  picturesque  group  of  the  two  female  gnomes,  —  an 
indifference  which  piqued  Madame  Crochard  who  was 
not  pleased  to  see  her  "black  monsieur  "  gravely  pre- 


A  Double  Life.  193 

occupied,  walking  with  his  eyes  on  the  ground  or 
looking  straight  in  front  of  him,  as  if  he  were  trying 
to  read  the  future  in  the  damp  mists  of  the  rue  du 
Tourniquet. 

However,  one  morning  toward  the  last  of  Septem- 
ber, the  pretty  head  of  Caroline  Crochard  stood  out  so 
brilliantly  on  the  dark  background  of  her  dingy  cham- 
ber, and  she  looked  so  fresh  among  her  spindling 
flowers  and  the  sparse  foliage  that  twined  about  the 
bars  of  the  window,  —  the  scene,  in  short,  presented 
so  many  contrasts  of  light  and  shade,  of  white  and 
rose,  blending  so  well  with  the  muslin  the  girl  was 
embroidering  and  the  tones  of  the  old  velvet  chair 
in  which  she  sat,  —  that  the  unknown  pedestrian  did 
look  attentively  at  the  effects  of  this  living  picture. 
Madame  Crochard,  weary  of  the  indifference  of  her 
black  gentleman,  had,  in  truth,  taken  the  step  of 
making  such  a  clatter  with  her  reels  and  bobbins  that 
the  gloomy,  thoughtful  stranger  was  perhaps  com- 
pelled by  this  unusual  noise  to  look  up  at  the 
window. 

He  exchanged  one  glance  with  Caroline,  rapid,  it  is 
true,  but  in  it  their  souls  came  slightly  in  contact,  and 
they  each  were  conscious  of  a  presentiment  that  they 
should  think  of  one  another.  That  evening  when  the 
stranger  returned,  about  four  o'clock,  Caroline  distin- 
guished the  sound  of  his  step  upon  the  pavement,  and 
when  they  looked  at  each  other  they  did  so  with  a 
species  of  premeditation;  the  eyes  of  the  stranger 
were  brightened  with  an  expression  of  benevolence, 
and  he  smiled,  while  Caroline  blushed.  The  old 
mother  watched  them  both  with  a  satisfied  air. 

13 


194  A  Double  Life. 

After  that  memorable  morning  the  black  monsieur 
passed  through  the  rue  du  Tourniquet  twice  every  day, 
with  a  few  exceptions  which  the  two  women  noted; 
they  judged,  from  the  irregularity  of  his  hours  of 
return  that  he  was  neither  so  quickly  released  nor  so 
strictly  punctual  as  a  subaltern  clerk  would  be. 

During  the  first  three  winter  months,  Caroline  and 
the  stranger  saw  each  other  twice  a  day  for  the  length 
of  time  which  it  took  him  to  walk  the  distance  flanked 
by  the  door  and  the  three  windows  of  the  house. 
Daily  this  brief  interview  took  on  more  and  more  a 
character  of  benevolent  intimacy,  until  it  ended  in 
something  that  was  almost  fraternal.  Caroline  and 
the  stranger  seemed  from  the  first  to  understand  each 
other;  and  then,  by  dint  of  examining  one  another's 
faces  a  deeper  knowledge  of  their  characters  came 
about.  The  meeting  became  a  sort  of  visit  which  the 
stranger  paid  to  Caroline;  if,  by  chance,  her  black 
monsieur  passed  without  giving  her  the  half-formed 
smile  on  his  eloquent  lips  or  the  friendly  glance  of  his 
brown  eyes,  something  was  lacking  to  her  day.  She 
was  like  those  old  men  to  whom  the  reading  of  their 
newspaper  becomes  such  a  pleasure  that  if  some  acci- 
dent delays  it  they  are  wholly  upset  at  missing  the 
printed  sheet  which  helps  them  for  an  instant  to  cheat 
the  void  of  their  dreary  existence. 

These  fugitive  meetings  soon  had,  both  to  Caroline 
and  to  the  unknown  man,  the  interest  and  charm  of 
familiar  conversation  between  friends.  The  young 
girl  could  no  more  conceal  from  the  intelligent  eye 
of  her  silent  friend  an  anxiety,  an  illness,  a  sad 
thought,  than  he  could  hide  from  her  the  presence  in 


A  Double  Life.  195 

his  mind  of  some  painful  preoccupation.  "Something 
troubled  him  yesterday,"  was  a  thought  that  often 
came  into  the  girl's  heart  as  she  noticed  a  strained 
look  on  the  face  of  her  black  gentleman.  "Oh!  he 
must  have  been  working  too  hard !  "  was  another  ex- 
clamation caused  by  other  signs  and  shadows  that 
Caroline  had  learned  to  distinguish. 

The  stranger,  on  his  side,  seemed  to  know  when  the 
girl  had  spent  her  Sunday  in  finishing  a  lace  dress,  in 
the  design  of  which  he  felt  an  interest.  He  saw  how  the 
pretty  face  darkened  as  the  rent-day  came  round ;  he 
knew  when  Caroline  had  been  sitting  up  all  night; 
but  more  especially  did  he  notice  how  the  sad  thoughts 
now  beginning  to  tarnish  the  freshness  and  the  gayety 
of  that  young  face  were  dissipated  little  by  little  as 
their  unspoken  acquaintance  increased. 

When  winter  dried  the  foliage  and  the  tendrils  of 
the  puny  garden,  and  the  window  was  closed,  a  smile 
that  was  softly  malicious  came  to  the  stranger's  lips 
as  he  saw  the  bright  li°;ht  in  the  room  casting  Caro- 
line's  reflection  through  the  panes.  An  evident  parsi- 
mony as  to  fire,  and  the  reddened  noses  of  the  two 
women,  revealed  to  him  the  indigence  of  the  little 
household;  but  if  a  pained  compassion  was  reflected 
in  his  eyes,  Caroline  proudly  undermined  it  with  a 
feigned  gayety. 

But  all  this  while  the  sentiments  that  were  budding 
in  their  hearts  were  buried  there,  and  no  event  hap- 
pened to  teach  them  the  strength  or  the  extent  of  their 
own  feelings;  they  did  not  even  know  the  sound  of 
each  other's  voices.  These  two  mute  friends  avoided 
a  closer  union  as  though  it  were  an  evil.     Each  seemed 


196  A  Double  Life. 

to  fear  to  bring  upon  the  other  a  heavier  misfortune 
than  those  they  each  were  bearing.  Was  it  the  reti- 
cence of  friendship  that  thus  restrained  them,  or  that 
dread  of  selfishness,  that  atrocious  distrust  which  puts  a 
barrier  between  all  persons  collected  within  the  walls 
of  a  crowded  city  ?  Did  the  secret  voice  of  their  con- 
sciences warn  them  of  coming  peril?  It  is  wholly 
impossible  to  explain  the  feeling  which  kept  them 
enemies  even  more  than  friends,  seemingly  as  indiffer- 
ent to  each  other  as  they  were,  in  truth,  attached ;  as 
much  united  by  instinct  as  they  were  parted  by  fact. 
Perhaps  each  was  desirous  of  keeping  both  his  and 
her  illusion.  It  almost  seemed  as  though  this  name- 
less black  gentleman  feared  to  hear  from  those  fresh 
lips,  pure  as  a  flower,  some  vulgar  speech,  and  that 
Caroline  felt  herself  unworthy  of  that  mysterious 
being  who  bore  to  her  eyes  the  unmistakable  signs 
of  power  and  fortune. 

As  for  Madame  Crochard,  that  observant  mother, 
half  angry  at  her  daughter's  indecision,  began  to 
show  a  sulky  face  to  her  black  monsieur,  on  whom  she 
had  hitherto  smiled  with  an  air  as  complacent  as  it 
was  servile.  Never  did  she  bemoan  herself  to  her 
daughter  so  bitterly  at  the  hard  fate  which  obliged 
her,  at  her  age,  to  cook;  never  did  her  rheumatism 
and  her  catarrh  draw  from  her  so  manv  moans.  Her 
state  of  mind  was  such  that  she  failed  to  do,  that 
winter,  the  number  of  yards  of  tulle  on  which  the  poor 
household  counted. 

Under  these  circumstances  and  toward  the  end  of 
December,  when  bread  was  becoming  dearer  and  the 
poor  were  already  feeling   that   rise   in   the   cost  of 


A  Double  Life.  197 

grains  which  made  the  year  1816  so  cruel  to  poverty, 
the  unknown  man  observed  on  the  face  of  the  girl, 
whose  name  was  unknown  to  him,  the  traces  of  some 
painful  thought  which  her  friendly  smiles  were  unable 
to  chase  away.  He  recognized  also  in  her  eyes  the 
weary  indications  of  nocturnal  labor.  On  one  of  the 
last  nights  of  the  month  he  returned,  contrary  to  cus- 
tom, through  the  rue  du  Tourniquet-Saint- Jean  about 
one  in  the  morning.  The  stillness  of  the  hour  enabled 
him  to  hear,  even  before  he  reached  the  house,  the 
whining  voice  of  the  old  woman,  and  the  still  more 
distressing  tones  of  the  girl,  the  sound  of  which 
mingled  with  the  hissing  sound  of  a  fall  of  snow. 

He  walked  slowly;  then,  at  the  risk  of  being 
arrested,  he  crouched  before  the  window  to  listen  to 
the  mother  and  daughter,  examining  them  through  one 
of  the  many  holes  in  the  muslin  curtains.  A  legal 
paper  lay  on  the  table  which  stood  between  their  two 
work-frames,  on  which  were  the  lamp  and  the  globes 
of  water.  He  recognized  at  once  a  summons  of  some 
kind.  Madame  Crochard  was  weeping  bitterly,  and 
the  voice  of  the  girl  was  guttural  with  her  grief,  com- 
pletely changing  its  soft  and  caressing  ring. 

"Why  make  yourself  so  unhappy,  mother?  Mon- 
sieur Moulineux  will  never  sell  our  furniture,  and  he 
cannot  turn  us  out  before  I  have  finished  this  o-own. 
Two  nights  more  and  I  shall  carry  it  to  Madame 
Roguin. " 

"And  she  '11  make  you  wait  for  the  money,  as  usual. 
Besides,  the  price  of  that  gown  won't  pay  the  baker, 
too." 

The  spectator  of  this  scene  had  so  great  a  habit  of 


198  A  Double  Life. 

reading  faces  that  he  thought  he  saw  as  much  hypoc- 
risy in  the  mother's  grief  as  there  was  truth  iu  the 
daughter's.  He  disappeared  at  once;  but  presently 
returned.  Again  he  looked  through  the  ragged  mus- 
lin. The  mother  had  gone  to  bed.  The  girl  was 
bending  over  her  frame  with  indefatigable  energy. 
On  the  table  beside  the  summons  lay  a  small  piece  of 
bread  cut  in  a  triangle,  meant,  no  doubt  to  support 
her  during  the  night,  perhaps  to  sustain  her  courage. 
The  black  gentleman  shuddered  with  pity  and  with 
pain ;  he  flung  his  purse  through  a  hole  in  the  window 
that  was  covered  with  paper,  in  such  a  way  that  it  fell 
at  the  girl's  feet.  Then,  without  waiting  to  see  her 
surprise,  he  escaped,  his  heart  beating,  his  cheeks  on 
fire. 

The  next  day  the  sad  and  alien  man  passed  by  as 
usual,  affecting  a  preoccupied  air.  But  he  was  not 
allowed  to  escape  the  girl's  gratitude.  Caroline  had 
opened  the  window  and  was  digging  about  the  box 
of  earth  with  a  knife,  a  pretext  of  ingenuous  falsity 
which  proved  to  her  benefactor  that  on  this  occasion 
she  was  determined  not  to  see  him  through  glass. 
With  eyes  full  of  tears  she  made  a  sign  with  her  head 
as  if  to  say,  "I  can  only  pay  you  with  my  heart." 

But  the  black  gentleman  seemed  not  to  understand 
the  expression  of  this  true  gratitude.  That  evening, 
when  he  passed  again,  Caroline  was  busy  in  pasting 
another  paper  over  the  broken  window  and  so  was  able 
to  smile  to  him,  showing  the  enamel  of  her  brilliant 
teeth,  like,  as  it  were,  a  promise.  From  that  day  the 
black  gentleman  took  another  road,  and  appeared  no 
more  in  the  rue  du  Tourniquet. 


A  Double  Life.  199 

During  the  first  week  of  the  following  May,  on  a 
Saturday  morning,  as  Caroline  was  watering  her 
honeysuckle,  she  beheld  between  the  two  black  lines 
of  houses  a  narrow  strip  of  cloudless  sky,  and  called 
to  her  mother  in  the  next  room  :  — 

"Mamma!  let  us  go  to-morrow  for  a  day's  pleasur- 
ing at  Montmorency! " 

The  words  had  scarcely  left  her  lips  when  the  black 
monsieur  passed,  sadder  and  evidently  more  oppressed 
than  ever.  The  look  of  pleasure  which  Caroline  gave 
him  might  have  passed  for  an  invitation.  In  fact, 
the  next  day,  when  Madame  Crochard,  arrayed  in  a 
reddish-brown  merino  pelisse,  a  silk  bonnet,  and  a 
striped  shawl  made  to  imitate  cashmere,  went  with 
her  daughter  to  choose  a  coucou  at  the  corner  of  the 
rue  d'Enghien  and  the  rue  du  Faubourg-Saint-Denis, 
she  found  her  black  monsieur  standing  there,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  was  waiting  for  a  woman. 

A  smile  of  pleasure  softened  the  face  of  the  stranger 
when  he  beheld  Caroline,  whose  little  feet,  shod  in 
puce-colored  prunella  boots,  appeared  beneath  her 
white  muslin  gown,  which,  blown  by  the  wind  (too 
often  perfidious  to  ill-made  forms),  showed  off  her 
beautiful  figure,  while  her  face,  shaded  by  a  straw  hat 
lined  with  pink,  seemed  illuminated  by  a  ray  from 
heaven.  A  broad  belt,  also  puce-colored,  set  off  a 
little  waist  he  might  have  spanned  between  his  fingers; 
her  hair,  parted  into  two  brown  bandeaus  round  a 
forehead  white  as  milk,  gave  her  an  air  of  simple 
purity  which  nothing  marred.  Pleasure  seemed  to 
make  her  as  light  as  the  straw  of  her  hat;  but  a  hope 
darted  into  her  mind  on  seeing  the  black  gentleman, 


200  A  Double  Life. 

eclipsing  all  else.  He  himself  appeared  irresolute. 
Perhaps  the  sudden  revelation  of  joy  on  the  girl's  face 
caused  by  his  presence  may  have  decided  him,  for  he 
turned  and  hired  a  cabriolet,  with  a  fairly  good  horse, 
to  go  to  Saint-Leu-Taverny ;  then  he  asked  Madame 
Crochard  and  her  daughter  to  take  seats  in  it. 

The  mother  accepted  without  further  urging;  but  no 
sooner  had  the  vehicle  fairly  started  than  she  brought 
forth  scruples  and  regrets  for  the  inconvenience  that 
two  women  would  cause  to  their  companion. 

4 'Perhaps  monsieur  would  rather  go  alone  to  Saint- 
Leu  ?  "  she  said  hypocritically. 

Presently  she  complained  of  the  heat,  and  especially 
of  her  troublesome  catarrh,  which,  she  said,  had  kept 
her  awake  all  night,  and  the  carriage  had  hardly 
reached  Saint-Denis  before  she  was  asleep,  though 
certain  of  her  snores  seemed  doubtful  to  the  black 
monsieur,  who  frowned  heavily  and  looked  at  the  old 
woman  with  singular  suspicion. 

"Oh!  she's  asleep,"  said  Caroline,  naively.  uShe 
coughed  all  night,  and  must  be  tired." 

For  all  answer,  the  gentleman  cast  a  shrewd  smile 
upon  the  girl  which  seemed  to  mean :  — 

"Innocent  creature!  you  don't  know  }Tour  mother." 

However,  in  spite  of- his  distrust,  by  the  time  the 
cabriolet  was  rolling  along  the  avenue  of  poplars 
which  leads  to  Eau  Bonne,  the  black  gentleman 
believed  that  Madame  Crochard  was  really  asleep; 
perhaps,  however,  he  no  longer  cared  to  know  whether 
the  sleep  was  real  or  feigned.  Whether  it  was  that 
the  beauty  of  the  skies,  the  pure  country  air,  and  those 
delicious  scents  wafted  by  the  budding  poplars,  the 


A  Double  Life.  201 

willow  catkins,  the  blossoms  of  the  eglantine,  had 
inclined  his  heart  to  open  and  expand ;  or  that  further 
silence  became  irksome  to  him;  or  that  the  sparkling 
eyes  of  the  young  girl  were  answering  his,  —  it  is  cer- 
tain that  the  black  monsieur  now  began  a  conversa- 
tion, as  vague  as  the  quivering  of  the  foliage  to  the 
breeze,  as  vagabond  as  the  circlings  of  a  butterfly,  as 
little  without  real  motive  as  the  voice,  softly  melo- 
dious, of  the  fields,  but  marked,  like  Nature  herself, 
with  mysterious  love. 

At  this  season  the  country  quivers  like  a  bride  who 
has  just  put  on  her  bridal  robes;  it  invites  to  pleasure 
the  coldest  heart.  To  leave  the  darksome  streets  of 
the  Marais  for  the  first  time  since  the  previous  autumn, 
and  to  find  one's  self  suddenly  in  the  bosom  of  that  har- 
monious and  picturesque  valley  of  Montmorency;  to 
pass  through  it  in  the  morning  when  the  eye  can  fol- 
low the  infinity  of  its  horizons,  and  to  turn  from  that 
to  an  infinity  of  love  in  the  eyes  beside  us,  —  what 
heart  will  continue  icy,  what  lips  will  keep  their 
secrets? 

The  unknown  man  found  Caroline  more  gay  than 
clever,  more  loving  than  informed.  But  if  her  laugh 
was  a  trifle  giddy,  her  words  bore  evidence  of  true 
feeling;  and  when  to  the  leading  questions  of  her 
companion  she  replied  with  that  effusion  of  the  heart 
which  the  lower  classes  lavish,  when  they  feel  it, 
without  the  reticence  of  persons  of  good  society,  the 
face  of  the  black  gentlemau  brightened,  and  seemed, 
as  it  were,  reborn ;  it  lost  by  degrees  the  sadness  that 
contracted  its  features,  and  gradually,  tint  by  tint, 
it  gained  a  look  of  youth  and  a  character  of  beauty 


202  A  Double  Life. 

which  marie  the  young  girl  proud  and  happy.  She 
divined  instinctively  that  her  friend,  deprived  of  ten- 
derness and  love,  no  longer  believed  in  the  devotion 
of  women.  At  last  a  sudden  gush  of  Caroline's  light 
chatter  carried  off  the  last  cloud  which  veiled  on  the 
stranger's  face  his  real  youth  and  his  native  char- 
acter; he  seemed  to  come  to  some  eternal  divorce  from 
oppressive  ideas,  and  he  now  displayed  a  vivacity  of 
heart  which  the  solemnity  of  his  face  had  hitherto 
concealed.  The  talk  became  insensibly  so  familiar 
that  by  the  time  the  carriage  stopped  at  the  first 
houses  of  the  village  of  Saint-Leu  Caroline  was  call- 
ing her  friend  "Monsieur  Roger."  Then,  for  the  first 
time,  Madame  Crochard  woke  up. 

"Caroline,  she  must  have  heard  us,"  said  Roger, 
suspiciously,  in  the  young  girl's  ear. 

Caroline  answered  by  a  charming  smile  of  in- 
credulity, which  dispersed  the  dark  cloud  brought  by 
the  fear  of  a  scheme  to  the  forehead  of  the  distrust- 
ful man.  Without  expressing  any  surprise,  Madame 
Crochard  approved  of  everything,  and  followed  her 
daughter  and  Monsieur  Roger  to  the  park  of  Saint- 
Leu,  where  the  pair  had  agreed  to  ramble  about  the 
smiling  meadows  and  the  balmy  groves  which  the  taste 
of  Queen  Hortense  had  rendered  celebrated. 

"Heavens!  how  lovely!  "  cried  Caroline,  when,  hav- 
ing reached  the  green  brow  of  the  hill  where  the  forest 
of  Montmorency  begins,  she  saw  at  her  feet  the  vast 
valley  winding  its  serpentine  way  dotted  with  villages, 
steeples,  fields,  and  meadows,  a  murmur  of  which 
came  softly  to  her  ear  like  the  purling  of  waves,  as  her 
eyes  rested  on  the  blue  horizon  of  the  distant  hills. 


A  Double  Life.  203 

The  three  excursionists  followed  the  banks  of  an 
artificial  river  until  they  reached  the  Swiss  valley  with 
its  chalet  where  Napoleon  and  Queen  Hortense  were 
wont  to  stay.  When  Caroline  had  seated  herself  with 
sacred  respect  upon  the  mossy  wooden  bench  where 
kings  and  princesses  and  the  Emperor  had  reposed 
themselves,  Madame  Crochard  manifested  a  desire  to 
take  a  closer  view  of  a  suspension  bridge  between  two 
cliffs  a  little  farther  on.  Wending  her  wray  to  that 
rural  curiosity  she  left  her  daughter  to  the  care  of 
Monsieur  Roger,  remarking,  however,  that  she  should 
not  go  out  of  sight. 

"Poor  little  thing!  "  cried  Roger,  "have  you  never 
known  comfort  or  luxury?  Don't  you  sometimes  wish 
to  wear  the  pretty  gowns  you  embroider?  " 

"I  should  n't  be  telling  the  truth,  Monsieur  Roger, 
if  I  said  I  never  thought  of  the  happiness  rich  people 
must  enjoy.  Yes,  I  do  think  often,  specially  when 
asleep,  of  the  pleasure  it  would  be  to  see  my  poor 
mother  saved  the  trouble  of  going  out  to  buy  our  food 
and  then  preparing  it  at  her  age.  I  would  like  to 
have  a  charwoman  come  in  the  morning  before  she  is 
out  of  bed,  and  make  her  a  cup  of  coffee  with  plenty 
of  sugar,  white  sugar,  in  it.  She  likes  to  read  novels, 
poor  dear  woman!  Well,  I  'd  rather  she  used  her  eyes 
on  her  favorite  reading  than  strain  them  counting  bob- 
bins from  morning  till  night.  Also,  she  really  needs  a 
little  good  wine.  I  do  wish  I  could  see  her  happy, 
she  is  so  kind." 

Then  she  has  always  been  kind  to  you?  " 
'Oh,  yes!  "  said  the  girl,  in  an  earnest  voice. 

As  they  watched  Madame  Crochard,  who  had  reached 


44, 


204  A  Double  Life. 

the  middle  of  the  bridge,  and  now  shook  her  finger  at 
them,  Caroline  continued  :  — 

"Oh,  yes!  she  has  always  been  kind  to  me.  What 
care  she  gave  me  when  I  was  little!  She  sold  her  last 
forks  and  spoons  to  apprentice  me  to  the  old  maid 
who  taught  me  to  embroider.  And  my  poor  father! 
she  took  such  pains  to  make  him  happy  in  his  last 
days ! " 

At  this  remembrance  the  girl  shuddered,  and  put 
her  hands  before  her  eyes. 

"Bah!  don't  let  us  think  of  past  troubles,"  she 
resumed,  gayly. 

Then  she  colored,  perceiving  that  Roger  was  much 
affected,  but  she  dared  not  look  at  him. 

"What  did  your  father  do?  "  asked  Eoger. 

"He  was  a  dancer  at  the  Opera  before  the  Revolu- 
tion," she  replied,  with  the  simplest  air  in  the  world, 
"and  my  mother  sang  in  the  chorus.  My  father,  who 
managed  the  evolutions  on  the  stage,  chanced  to  be 
present  at  the  taking  of  the  Bastille.  He  was  recog- 
nized by  some  of  the  assailants,  who  asked  him  if  he 
could  n't  lead  a  real  attack  as  he  had  led  so  many 
sham  ones  at  the  theatre.  Father  was  brave,  and  he 
agreed;  he  led  the  insurgents,  and  was  rewarded  with 
the  rank  of  captain  in  the  army  of  the  Sambre-et- 
Meuse,  where  he  behaved  in  such  a  way  that  he  was 
rapidly  promoted  and  became  a  colonel.  But  he  was 
terribly  wounded  at  Lutzen,  and  returned  to  Paris  to 
die,  after  a  year's  illness.  The  Bourbons  came  back, 
and  of  course  my  mother  could  not  get  a  pension,  and 
we  fell  into  such  dreadful  poverty  that  we  had  to  work 
for  our  living.     Of  late  the  poor  dear  woman  has  been 


ti- 
lt' 


A  Double  Life.  205 

ailing;  and  she  isn't  as  resigned  as  she  used  to  be; 
she  complains,  and  I  don't  wonder,  — she,  who  once 
had  all  the  comforts  of  an  easy  life.  As  for  me,  I 
can't  regret  comforts  I  never  had ;  but  there  's  one 
thing  I  do  hope  Heaven  will  grant  me." 

What  is  that?  "  asked  Roger,  who  seemed  dreamy. 
;That  ladies  will  always  wear  embroidered  gowns, 
so  that  I  shall  never  want  work." 

The  frankness  of  these  avowals  interested  her  hearer 
so  much  that  when  Madame  Crochard  slowly  returned 
to  them,  he  looked  at  her  with  an  eye  that  was  less 
hostile. 

"Well,  my  children,  have  you  had  a  good  talk?" 
she  asked,  in  a  tone  both  indulgent  and  sly.  "When 
one  thinks,  Monsieur  Roger,  that  '  the  little  corporal ' 
sat  on  that  bench  where  you  are  sitting!"  she  con- 
tinued, after  a  moment's  silence.  "Poor  man!  how 
my  husband  loved  him!  Ah!  it  is  a  good  thing 
Crochard  died;  he  never  could  have  borne  to  think 
of  him  at  that  place  where  those  others  have  put  him." 

Roger  laid  a  finger  on  his  lips,  and  the  old  woman, 
nodding  her  head,  said,  gravely :  — 

"Enough;  I  '11  keep  a  dead  tongue  in  my  head  and 
my  lips  tight.  But,"  she  added,  opening  the  front 
of  her  dress,  and  showing  the  cross  of  the  Legion  of 
honor  and  its  red  ribbon  fastened  to  her  throat  with 
a  black  bow,  "nothing  can  prevent  me  from  wearing 
what  he  gave  to  my  poor  Crochard;  I  mean  to  be 
buried  with  it." 

Hearing  these  words,  which  at  that  time  were  held 
to  be  seditious,  Roger  interrupted  the  old  woman  by 
rising  abruptly,  and  they  started  to  return  to  the  vil- 


206  A  Double  Life. 

lage  through  the  park.  The  young  man  absented 
himself  for  a  few  moments  to  order  a  meal  at  the  best 
restaurant,  then  he  returned  to  fetch  the  two  women, 
guiding  them  along  the  paths  through  the  forest. 

The  dinner  was   gay.     Roger  was  no  longer   that 
gloomy  shadow  which  for  months  had  passed  through 
the  rue  du  Tourniquet;  no  longer  the   "black   mon- 
sieur," but  rather  a  hopeful  young  man  read}'  to  let 
himself   float   upon   the  current  of  life  like  the  two 
women  who  were  happy  in  the  day's  enjoyment,  though 
the  morrow  might  find  them  without  food.    He  seemed, 
indeed,  to  be  under  the  influence  of  the  joys  of  youth; 
his  smile  had  something  caressing  and  childlike  about 
it.     When,  at  five  o'clock,  the  pleasant  dinner  came 
to  an  end  with  a  few  glasses  of  champagne,  Roger 
was  the  first  to  propose  that  they  should  go  to  the 
village  ball,  under  the  chestnut-trees,  where  he  and 
Caroline  danced  together.     Their  hands  met  in   one 
thought,  their  hearts  beat  with  the  same  hope,   and 
beneath  that  azure  sky,  glowing  toward  the  west  with 
the  level  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  their  glances  had  a 
brilliancy  which,   to   each   other's  heart,   paled  even 
that  of  the  heaven  above  them.     Strange  power  of  a 
thought  and  a  desire!  nothing  seemed  impossible  to 
these    two   beings.     In    such    magic   moments,   when 
pleasure  casts  its  reflections  on  the  future,   the  soul 
can  see  naught  but  happiness.     This  charming   day 
had  created  for  both  of  them  memories  to  which  they 
could  compare  no  other  experience  of  their  lives.     Is 
the   spring  more  perfect  than   the  current,  the  desire 
more  ravishing  than  its  fulfilment?  is  the  thing  hoped- 
for  more  attractive  than  the  thing  possessed? 


A  Double  Life.  207 

"There  's  our  clay  already  over!  " 

At  this  exclamation  which  escaped  the  young  man 
when  the  dance  ended,  Caroline  looked  at  him  com- 
passionately, for  she  saw  the  sadness  beginning  again 
to  cloud  his  face. 

"  Why  are  you  not  as  happy  in  Paris  as  you  have 
been  here?"  she  said.  "Is  there  no  happiness  except 
at  Saint-Leu?  It  seems  to  me  I  can  never  again  be 
discontented  anywhere." 

Roger  quivered  at  those  words,  dictated  by  the  soft 
abandonment  which  often  leads  women  farther  than 
they  mean  to  go,  — just  as,  on  the  other  hand,  prudery 
makes  them  stiffer  than  they  really  are.  For  the  first 
time  since  that  look  which  began  their  intimacy, 
Caroline  and  Roger  had  one  and  the  same  thought. 
Though  they  did  not  express  it,  they  each  felt  it  by  a 
mutual  impression  something  like  that  of  the  warmth 
of  a  glowing  hearth  beneficently  comforting  in  winter. 
Then,  as  if  they  feared  their  silence,  they  hastened  to 
the  place  where  their  vehicle  awaited  them.  But  be- 
fore they  reached  it  they  took  each  other  by  the  hand 
and  ran  along  a  wood-path  in  advance  of  Madame 
Crochard.  When  the  white  of  the  old  woman's  tulle 
cap  was  no  longer  visible  through  the  foliage,  Roger 
turned  to  the  girl  and  said,  with  a  troubled  voice  and 
a  beating  heart:  — 

"Caroline?" 

The  girl,  confused,  stepped  back  a  few  paces, 
understanding  the  desires  that  interrogation  implied; 
nevertheless  she  held  out  her  hand,  whicli  was  ardently 
kissed,  though  she  quickly  withdrew  it,  for  at  that 
moment  her  mother  came  in  sight.     Madame  Crochard 


208  A  Double  Life. 

pretended  to  have  seen  nothing,  as  if,  remembering 
her  stage  experience,  the  scene  was  only  an  aside. 

The  history  of  Roger  and  Caroline  does  not  continue 
in  the  rue  du  Tourniquet ;  to  meet  them  again  we  must 
go  to  the  very  centre  of  modern  Paris,  where,  among 
the  newly  built  houses,  there  are  found  apartments 
which  seem  expressly  made  for  the  honeymoon  of 
bridal  couples.  The  paper  and  painting  are  as  fresh 
as  they;  the  decoration,  like  their  love,  is  in  its 
bloom ;  all  is  in  harmony  with  young  ideas  and  bound- 
ing desires.  About  the  middle  of  the  rue  Taitbout,  in 
a  house  where  the  copings  were  still  white,  the  col- 
umns of  the  vestibule  and  the  door  unsoiled,  the  walls 
shining  with  that  coquettish  paint  which  our  renewed 
relations  with  England  brought  into  fashion,  was  a 
little  apartment  on  the  second  floor,  arranged  by  an 
architect  as  if  he  had  foreseen  the  uses  to  which  it 
would  be  put.  A  simple  airy  antechamber  with  a 
stucco  wainscot  gave  entrance  to  a  salon  and  a  very 
small  dining-room.  The  salon  communicated  with  a 
pretty  bedchamber,  beyond  which  was  a  bathroom. 
The  mantels  were  adorned  with  mirrors  choicely 
framed.  The  doors  were  painted  with  arabesques 
in  excellent  taste,  and  the  style  of  the  cornices  was 
pure.  An  amateur  would  have  recognized,  better 
there  than  elsewhere,  that  science  of  arrangement  and 
decoration  which  distinguishes  the  work  of  our  modern 
architects. 

For  the  last  month  Caroline  had  occupied  this  pretty 
apartment,  which  was  furnished  by  upholsterers  under 
direction  of  the  architect.  A  short  description  of  the 
principal  room  will  give  an  idea  of  the  marvels  this 


A  Double  Life.  209 

apartment  presented  to  Caroline's  eyes  when  Roger 
brought  her  there. 

Hangings  of  gray  cloth  enlivened  by  green  silk 
trimmings  covered  the  walls  of  the  bedroom.  The 
furniture,  upholstered  with  pale-green  cassimere,  was 
of  that  light  and  graceful  shape  then  coming  into 
fashion.  A  bureau  of  native  wood  inlaid  with  some 
darker  wood  held  the  treasures  of  the  trousseau;  a 
secretary  of  the  same,  a  bed  with  antique  drapery, 
curtains  of  gray  silk  with  green  fringes,  a  bronze 
clock  representing  Cupid  crowning  Psyche,  and  a  car- 
pet with  gothic  designs  on  a  reddish  ground  were  the 
principal  features  of  this  place  of  delight.  Opposite 
to  a  psyche  mirror  stood  a  charming  toilet-table,  in 
front  of  which  sat  the  ex-embroidery  girl,  very  impa- 
tient with  the  scientific  labor  of  Plaisir,  the  famous 
coiffeur,  who  was  dressing  her  hair. 

"Do  you  expect  to  get  it  done  to-day?"  she  was 
saying. 

"  Madame' s  hair  is  so  long  and  thick,"  responded 
Plaisir. 

Caroline  could  not  help  smiling.  The  flattery  of 
the  artistic  hair-dresser  reminded  her,  no  doubt,  of 
the  passionate  admiration  expressed  by  her  friend  for 
the  beautiful  hair  he  idolized.  When  Plaisir  had 
departed,  Caroline's  maid  came  to  hold  counsel  with 
her  mistress  as  to  which  dress  was  most  likely  to 
please  Roger.  It  was  then  the  beginning  of  Septem- 
ber, 1816;  a  dress  of  green  grenadine  trimmed  with 
chinchilla  was  finally  chosen. 

As  soon  as  her  toilet  was  over  Caroline  darted  into 
the  salon,  opened  a  window  looking  upon  the  street, 

14 


210  A  Double  Life. 

and  went  out  upon  the  elegant  little  balcony  which 
adorned  the  facade  of  the  house ;  there  she  folded  her 
arms  on  the  railing  in  a  charming  attitude,  not  taken 
to  excite  the  admiration  of  the  passers  who  frequently 
turned  to  look  at  her,  but  to  fix  her  eyes  on  the  boulevard 
at  the  end  of  the  rue  Taitbout.  This  glimpse,  which 
might  be  compared  to  the  hole  in  a  stage-curtain  through 
which  the  actors  see  the  audience,  enabled  her  to  watch 
the  multitude  of  elegant  carriages  and  the  crowds  of 
people  carried  past  that  one  spot  like  the  rapid  slide  of 
a  magic  lantern.  Uncertain  whether  Roger  would  come 
on  foot  or  in  a  carriage,  the  former  lodger  in  the  rue 
du  Tourniquet  examined  in  turn  the  pedestrians  and 
the  tilbury s,  a  light  style  of  phaeton  recently  brought 
to  France  by  the  English.  Expressions  of  love  and 
mutinous  provocation  crossed  her  face  when,  after 
watching  for  half  an  hour,  neither  heart  nor  sight  had 
shown  her  the  person  for  whom  she  waited.  What 
contempt,  what  indifference  was  on  her  pretty  face  for 
all  the  other  beings  who  were  hurrying  along  like  ants 
beneath  her!  Her  gray  eyes,  sparkling  with  mischief, 
were  dazzling.  Wholly  absorbed,  in  her  passion,  she 
avoided  the  admiration  of  others  with  as  much  care  as 
some  women  take  to  obtain  it;  and  she  troubled  her- 
self not  at  all  as  to  whether  a  remembrance  of  her 
white  figure  leaning  on  the  balcony  should  or  should 
not  disappear  on  the  morrow  from  the  minds  of  the 
passers  who  were  now  admiring  her;  she  saw  but  one 
form,  and  she  had  in  her  head  but  one  idea. 

When  the  dappled  head  of  a  certain  horse  turned 
from  the  boulevard  into  the  street,  Caroline  quivered 
and    stood  on   tiptoe,    trying  to  recognize  the   white 


A  Double  Life.  211 

reins  and  the  color  of  the  tilbury.  Yes,  it  was  he! 
Roger,  as  he  turned  the  corner,  looked  toward  the 
balcony  and  whipped  his  horse  and  soon  reached  the 
bronze  door,  with  which  the  animal  was  now  as  famil- 
iar as  its  master.  The  door  of  the  apartment  was 
opened  by  the  maid,  who  had  heard  her  mistress's  cry 
of  pleasure.  Roger  rushed  into  the  salon,  took  Caro- 
line in  his  arms,  and  kissed  her  with  that  effusion  of 
feeling  which  accompanies  the  rare  meetings  of  two 
creatures  who  love  each  other.  Then  they  sat  down 
together  on  a  sofa  before  the  fire,  and  silently  looked 
at  one  another,  —  expressing  their  happiness  only  by 
the  close  grasp  of  their  hands,  and  communicating  their 
thoughts  through  their  eyes. 

"Yes,  it  is  he!  "  she  said  at  last.     "Yes,  it  is  you! 
Do  you  know  that  it  is  three  whole  days  since  I  Inst 
saw  you?  —  an  age!    But  what  is  the  matter?    I  know 
you  have  some  trouble  on  your  mind." 
My  poor  Caroline  —  " 
Oh,  nonsense!  poor  Caroline — " 
Don't  laugh,   my  angel;  we  can't  go  to-night  to 
the  Feydeau." 

Caroline  made  a  face  of  discontent,  which  faded 
instantly.    . 

"How  silly  of  me!  why  should  I  care  about  the 
theatre  when  I  have  you  here.  To  see  you!  is  n't  that 
the  only  play  I  care  for?  "  she  cried,  passing  her  hand 
through  his  hair. 

"I  am  obliged  to  dine  with  the  attorney-general. 
We  have  a  most  troublesome  affair  on  hand.  He  met 
me  in  the  great  hall  of  the  Palais ;  and  as  I  open  the 
case,   he   asked  me  to  dinner  that  we  might  talk   it 


14" 

"l 


212  A  Double  Life. 

over  previously.  But,  my  darling,  you  can  take  your 
mother  to  the  Feydeau  and  I  '11  join  you  there,  if  the 
conference  ends  early." 

"Go  to  the  theatre  without  you!  "  she  cried,  with 
an  expression  of  astonishment;  "enjoy  a  pleasure  you 
can't  share!  Oh,  Roger,  you  don't  deserve  to  be 
kissed,"  she  added,  throwing  her  arm  round  his  neck 
with  a  motion  as  naive  as  it  was  seductive. 

"Caroline,  I  must  go  now,  for  I  have  to  dress,  and 
it  takes  so  long  to  reach  the  Marais;  besides,  I  have 
business  that  must  be  finished  before  dinner." 

"Monsieur,"  said  Caroline,  "take  care  what  you 
say !  My  mother  assures  me  that  when  men  begin  to 
talk  to  us  of  business  that  means  they  no  longer  love 


us." 


"But,  Caroline,  1  did  come  as  I  promised;  I 
snatched  this  hour  from  my  pitiless  —  " 

"Oh,  hush!  "  she  said,  putting  her  finger  on  his 
lips;  "hush!  don't  you  see  that  I  was  joking?" 

At  this  moment  Roger's  eye  lighted  on  an  article  of 
furniture  brought  that  morning  by  the  upholsterer,  — 
the  old  rosewood  embroidery-frame  the  product  of 
which  supported  Caroline  and  her  mother  when  they 
lived  in  the  rue  du  Tourniquet-Saint-Jean,  —  which 
had  just  been  "done-up  "  like  new,  and  on  it  a  very 
beautiful  tulle  dress  was  already  stretched. 

"Yes,  look  at  it,  dear  friend!  I  shall  work  to- 
night; and  while  I  work  I  shall  be  thinking  of  those 
first  days  and  weeks  and  months  when  you  passed  me 
without  a  word  —  but  not  without  a  look!  those  days 
when  the  memory  of  a  look  kept  me  awake  at  night. 
Oh!  my  dear  frame,  the  handsomest  bit  of  furniture 


A  Double  Life.  213 

in  the  room,  though  you  did  not  give  it  to  me.  Ah! 
you  don't  know!"  she  continued,  seating  herself  on 
Roger's  knee.  "Listen!  I  want  to  give  to  the  poor 
all  I  can  now  earn  by  embroidery.  You  have  made 
me  so  rich,  I  want  for  nothing.  How  I  love  that  dear 
property  of  Bellefeuille!  less  for  what  it  is,  however, 
than  because  you  gave  it  to  me.  But  tell  me,  Roger; 
I  should  like  to  call  myself  Caroline  de  Bellefeuille; 
can  I  ?  you  ought  to  know.     Is  it  legal  or  allowable  ?  n 

Seeing  the  little  nod  of  affirmation  to  which  Roger 
was  led  by  his  hatred  for  the  name  of  Crochard,  Caro- 
line danced  lightly  about  the  room,  clapping  her  hands 
together. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  she  cried,  "that  I  shall  belong  to 
you  more  in  that  way.  Generally  a  girl  gives  up  her 
own  name  and  takes  that  of  her  husband." 

An  importunate  idea,  which  she  drove  away 
instantly,  made  her  blush.  She  took  Roger  by  the 
hand  and  led  him  to  the  piano. 

"Listen,"  she  said.  "I  know  my  sonata  now  like 
an  angel." 

So  saying,  her  fingers  ran  over  the  ivory  keys,  but  a 
strong  arm  caught  her  round  the  waist  and  lifted  her. 

"Caroline,  I  ought  to  be  far  away  by  this  time." 

"You  must  go?     Well,  go,  then,"  she  said,  pouting. 

But  she  smiled  as  she  looked  at  the  clock,  and  cried 
out,  joyously:  — 

"At  any  rate,  1  have  kept  you  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
more." 

"Adieu,  Mademoiselle  de  Bellefeuille,"  he  said, 
with  the  gentle  mockery  of  love. 

She  took  a  kiss  and  led  him  to  the  door.     When  the 


214  A  Double  Life. 

sound  of  his  steps  was  no  longer  to  be  heard  on  the 
staircase  she  ran  to  the  balcony  to  see  him  get  into 
his  tilbury,  pick  up  the  reins,  and  send  her  a  last 
look.  Then  she  listened  to  the  roll  of  the  wheels 
along  the  street,  and  followed  with  her  eyes  the  mettle- 
some horse,  the  hat  of  the  master,  the  gold  lace  on  the 
groom's  livery,  and  even  looked  long  at  the  corner  of 
the  street  which  parted  her  from  that  vision  of  her 
heart. 

Five  years  after  the  installation  of  Mademoiselle 
Caroline  de  Bellefeuille  in  the  pretty  apartment  in 
the  rue  Taitbout,  another  domestic  scene  was  happen- 
ing there  which  tightened  still  further  the  bonds  of 
affection  between  the  two  beings  who  loved  each 
other. 

In  the  middle  of  the  blue  salon  and  in  front  of  the 
window  that  opened  on  the  balcony,  a  little  boy 
about  four  and  a  half  years  old  was  making  an  infer- 
nal racket  by  whipping  and  urging  his  rocking-horse, 
which  was  going  at  a  pace  that  did  not  please  him. 
The  curls  of  his  pretty  blond  head  were  falling  in 
disorder  on  his  collarette,  and  he  smiled  like  an  ansrel 
at  his  mother  when  she  called  to  him  from  her  sofa : 

"Not  so  much  noise,  Charles;  you'll  wake  your 
little  sister." 

At  that  the  inquiring  boy  jumped  hastily  from  his 
horse  and  came  on  tiptoe,  as  if  he  feared  to  make  a 
sound  on  the  carpet;  then,  with  a  finger  between  his 
little  teeth,  he  stood  in  one  of  those  infantine  atti- 
tudes which  have  so  much  grace  because  they  are 
natural,  and  gently  lifted  the  white  muslin  veil  that  hid 
the  rosy  face  of  a  baby  asleep  on  its  mother's  knee. 


tl 


A  Double  Life.  215 

"Is   she  really  asleep?"   he   said,  much  surprised. 

Why  does  Eugenie  sleep  when  we  are  all  awake?" 
he  inquired,  opening  wide  his  great  black  eyes  which 
floated  in  liquid  light. 

"God  only  knows  that,"  replied  Caroline,  smiling. 

Mother  and  son  gazed  at  the  little  girl  baptized 
that  morning.  Caroline,  now  about  twenty-four  years 
old,  had  developed  a  beauty  which  happiness  unalloyed 
and  constant  pleasure  had  brought  into  bloom.  In 
her,  the  woman  was  now  complete.  Happy  in  obey- 
ing all  the  wishes  of  her  dear  Roger,  she  had  by 
degrees  acquired  the  accomplishments  in  which  she 
was  formerly  lacking.  She  could  play  quite  well  on 
the  piano,  and  sang  agreeably.  Ignorant  of  the  usages 
of  society  (which  would  have  repulsed  her,  and  where 
she  would  not  have  gone  had  it  even  desired  her,  for 
a  happy  woman  does  not  seek  the  world),  she  had  not 
learned  how  to  assume  the  social  elegance  of  manner 
nor  how  to  maintain  the  conversation  teeming  with 
words  and  empty  of  thought  which  passes  current  in 
the  world.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  she  had  laboriously 
obtained  the  knowledge  and  the  accomplishments 
necessary  to  a  mother  whose  ambition  lies  in  bringing 
up  her  children  properly. 

Never  to  part  from  her  son;  to  give  him  from  his 
cradle  those  lessons  of  every  hour  which  imprint  upon 
the  youthful  soul  a  love  of  goodness  and  of  beauty, 
to  preserve  him  from  all  evil  influences,  to  fulfil  the 
wearisome  functions  of  a  nurse  and  the  tender  obliga- 
tions of  a  mother,  —  such  were  her  pleasures.  From 
the  very  first  day  of  her  love  the  discreet  and  gentle 
creature  resigned  herself  so  thoroughly  to  make  no 


216  A  Double  Life. 

step  beyond  the  enchanted  sphere  in  which  she  found 
her  joys,  that  after  six  years  of  the  tenderest  union 
she  knew  her  friend  only  by  the  name  of  Roger.  In 
her  bedroom  an  engraving  of  Psyche  coming  with  her 
lamp  to  look  at  Cupid,  though  forbidden  by  the  god  to 
do  so,  reminded  her  of  the  conditions  of  her  happiness. 

During  these  six  years  no  ill-placed  ambition  on 
her  part  wearied  Roger's  heart,  a  treasure-house  of 
kindness.  Never  did  she  wish  for  display,  for  dia- 
monds, for  toilets;  she  refused  the  luxury  of  a  car- 
riage offered  a  score  of  times  to  her  vanity.  To  watch 
on  the  balcony  for  Roger's  cabriolet,  to  go  with  him 
to  the  theatre,  to  ramble  with  him  in  fine  weather  in 
the  country  about  Paris,  to  hope  for  him,  to  see  him, 
to  hope  for  him  again,  —  that  was  the  story  of  her  life, 
poor  in  events,  rich  in  affection. 

While  rocking  to  sleep  with  a  song  the  baby,  a 
girl,  born  a  few  months  before  the  day  of  which  we 
speak,  she  pleased  herself  by  evoking  her  memories  of 
the  past.  The  period  she  liked  best  to  dwell  on  was 
the  month  of  September  in  every  year,  when  Roger 
took  her  to  Bellefeuille  to  enjoy  the  country  at  that 
season.  Nature  is  then  as  prodigal  of  fruit  as  of 
flowers;  the  evenings  are  warm,  the  mornings  soft, 
and  the  sparkle  of  summer  still  keeps  at  bay  the 
melancholy  ghost  of  autumn. 

During  the  first  period  of  their  love  Caroline  attrib- 
uted the  calm  equability  of  soul  and  the  gentleness  of 
which  Roger  gave  her  so  many  proofs  to  the  rarity  of 
their  meetings,  always  longed  for,  and  to  their  manner 
of  life,  which  did  not  keep  them  perpetually  in  each 
other's   presence,    as   with    husband   and   wife.     She 


A  Double  Life.  217 

recalled  with  delight  how,  during  their  first  stay  on 
the  beautiful  little  property  in  the  Gatinais,  tormented 
by  a  vague  fear,  she  watched  him.  Useless  espial  of 
love!  Each  of  those  joyful  months  passed  like 
a  dream  in  the  bosom  of  a  happiness  that  proved 
unchangeable.  She  had  never  seen  that  kind  and 
tender  being  without  a  smile  on  his  lips,  —  a  smile 
that  seemed  the  echo  of  her  own.  Sometimes  these 
pictures  too  vividly  evoked  brought  tears  to  her  eyes ; 
she  fancied  she  did  not  love  him  enough,  and  was 
tempted  to  see  in  her  equivocal  situation  a  sort  of  tax 
levied  by  fate  upon  her  love. 

At  other  times  an  invincible  curiosity  led  her  to 
wonder  for  the  millionth  time  what  events  they  were 
which  could  have  driven  so  loving  a  man  as  Roger  to 
find  his  happiness  in  ways  that  were  clandestine  and 
illegal.  She  invented  a  score  of  romances,  chiefly  to 
escape  admitting  the  real  reason,  long  since  divined, 
though  her  heart  refused  to  believe  in  it. 

She  now  rose,  still  holding  her  sleeping  child  in  her 
arms,  and  went  into  the  dining-room  to  superintend 
the  arrangements  of  the  table  for  dinner.  The  day 
was  the  6th  of  May,  1822,  the  anniversary  of  their 
excursion  to  the  park  of  Saint-Leu,  when  her  life  was 
decided;  during  every  succeeding  year  that  day  had 
been  kept  as  a  festival  of  the  heart.  Caroline  now 
selected  the  linen  and  ordered  the  arrangement  of  the 

CD 

dessert.  Having  thus  taken  the  pains  which  she  knew 
would  please  Roger,  she  laid  the  baby  in  its  pretty 
cradle  and  took  up  her  station  on  the  balcony  to  watch 
for  the  useful  cabriolet  which  had  now  replaced  the 
elegant  tilbury  of  former  years. 


218  A  Double  Life. 

After  receiving  the  first  onset  of  Caroline's  caresses 
and  those  of  the  lively  urchin  who  called  him  "papa," 
Roger  went  to  the  cradle,  looked  at  his  sleeping  daugh- 
ter, kissed  her  forehead,  and  drew  from  his  pocket  a 
long  paper,  covered  with  black  lines. 

"Caroline,"  he  said,  "here  \s  the  dowry  of  Made- 
moiselle Eugenie  de  Belief euille." 

The  mother  took  the  paper  (a  certificate  of  invest- 
ment on  the  Grand-livre)  gratefully. 

"Why  three  thousand  francs  a  year  to  Eugenie, 
when  you  only  gave  fifteen  hundred  a  year  to 
Charles?"  she  asked. 

"Charles,  my  angel,  will  be  a  man,"  he  answered. 
"Fifteen  hundred  francs  will  suffice  to  support  him. 
With  that  income  a  man  of  energy  is  above  want.  If, 
by  chance,  your  son  should  be  a  nullity,  I  do  not  wish 
to  give  him  enough  to  make  him  dissipated.  If  he 
has  ambition,  that  small  amount  of  property  will  in- 
spire him  with  a  love  of  work,  and  it  will  also  enable 
to  work.  Eugenie  is  a  woman,  and  must  be  provided 
for." 

The  father  began  to  play  with  Charles,  whose  lively 
demonstrations  were  proofs  of  the  independence  and 
liberty  in  which  he  was  being  educated.  No  fear 
between  child  and  father  destroyed  that  charm  which 
compensates  paternity  for  its  heavy  responsibilities; 
the  gayety  of  the  little  family  was  as  sweet  as  it  was 
genuine.  That  evening  a  magic  lantern  was  produced 
which  cast  upon  a  white  sheet  mysterious  scenes  and 
pictures  to  the  great  amazement  of  the  boy.  More 
than  once  the  raptures  of  the  innocent  little  fellow 
excited  the  wild   laughter  of  his  father  and   mother. 


A  Double  Life.  219 

Later,  when  the  child  had  gone  to  bed,  the  baby  woke, 
demanding  its  legitimate  nourishment.  By  the  light 
of  the  lamp,  beside  the  hearth,  in  that  chamber  of 
peace  and  pleasure,  Roger  abandoned  himself  to  the 
happiness  of  contemplating  the  picture  of  Caroline 
with  her  infant  at  her  breast,  white  and  fresh  as  a  lily 
when  it  blooms,  her  beautiful  brown  hair  falling  in 
such  masses  of  curls  as  almost  to  hide  her  throat. 
The  light,  as  it  fell,  brought  out  the  charms  of  this 
young  mother,  — multiplying  upon  her  and  about  her, 
on  her  clothes  and  on  her  infant,  those  picturesque 
effects  which  are  produced  by  combinations  of  light 
and  shade.  The  face  of  the  calm  and  silent  woman 
seemed  sweeter  than  ever  before  to  Roger,  who  looked 
with  tender  eyes  at  the  red  and  curving  lips  from 
which  no  bitter  or  discordant  word  had  ever  issued. 
The  same  love  shone  in  Caroline's  own  eyes  as  she 
examined  Roger  furtively,  either  to  enjoy  the  effect 
she  was  producing,  or  to  know  if  she  might  keep  him 
that  evening. 

Roger,  who  saw  that  meaning  in  her  glance,  said, 
with  feigned  regret:  — 

"I  must  soon  be  going.  I  have  important  business 
to  attend  to;  they  expect  me  at  home.  Duty  first; 
isn't  that  so,  my  darling?" 

Caroline  watched  him  with  a  sad  and  gentle  look, 
which  did  not  leave  him  ignorant  of  the  pain  of  her 
sacrifice. 

"Adieu,  then,"  she  said.  "Go  now!  If  you  stay 
an  hour  longer  perhaps  I  shall  not  then  be  able  to  let 
you  go." 

"My  angel,"  he  said,  smiling,  "I  have  three  days' 


220  A  Double  Life. 

leave  of  absence,  and  I  am  supposed  to  be  at  this 
moment  twenty  leagues  from  Paris." 

A  few  clays  after  this  anniversary  of  the  6th  of 
May,  Mademoiselle  de  Bellefeuille  was  hurrying  one 
morning  to  the  rue  Saint-Louis  in  the  Marais,  hoping 
not  to  arrive  too  late  at  a  house  where  she  usually 
went  regularly  once  a  week.  A  messenger  had  been 
sent  to  tell  her  that  her  mother,  Madame  Crochard, 
was  dying  from  a  complication  of  ills  brought  on  by 
catarrh  and  rheumatism. 

While  Caroline  was  still  on  the  way,  certain  scrup- 
ulous old  women  with  whom  Madame  Crochard  had 
made  friends  for  the  last  few  years,  introduced  a  priest 
into  the  clean  and  comfortable  apartment  of  the  old 
mother  on  the  second  floor  of  the  house.  Madame 
Crochard 's  servant  was  ignorant  that  the  pretty  young 
lady  with  whom  her  mistress  often  dined  was  the  old 
woman's  daughter.  She  was  the  first  to  propose  call- 
ing in  a  confessor,  hoping,  secretly,  that  the  priest 
would  be  of  as  much  use  to  her  as  to  the  sick  woman. 

Between  two  games  of  cards,  or  while  walking 
together  in  the  Jardin  Turc,  the  old  women  with  whom 
Madame  Crochard  gossiped  daily  had  contrived  to 
instil  into  the  hardened  heart  of  their  friend  certain 
scruples  as  to  her  past  life,  a  few  ideas  of  the  future, 
a  few  fears  on  the  subject  of  hell,  and  certain  hopes 
of  pardon  based  on  a  sincere  return  to  the  duties  of 
religion.  Consequently,  during  this  solemn  morning 
three  old  dames  from  the  rue  Saint-Frangois  and  the 
rue  Vieille-du-Temple  established  themselves  in  the 
salon  where  Madame  Crochard  was  in  the  habit  of 
receiving  them  every  Tuesday.     They  each  took  turns 


A  Double  Life.  221 

to  keep  the  poor  old  creature  company  and  give  her 
those  false  hopes  with  which  the  sick  are  usually 
deluded. 

It  was  not  until  the  crisis  seemed  approaching  and 
the  doctor,  called  in  the  night  before,  refused  to 
answer  for  the  patient's  life,  that  the  three  old  women 
consulted  one  another  to  decide  if  it  were  necessary 
to  notify  Mademoiselle  de  Bellefeuille.  Frangoise, 
the  maid,  was  finally  instructed  to  send  a  messenger 
to  the  rue  Taitbout  to  inform  the  young  relation  whose 
influence  was  feared  by  the  four  old  women,  each  of 
whom  devoutly  hoped  that  the  man  might  return  too 
.  late  with  the  person  on  whom  Madame  Crochard  had 
seemed  to  set  a  great  affection.  The  latter,  rich  to 
their  minds,  and  spending  at  least  three  thousand 
francs  a  year,  was  courted  and  cared  for  by  the  female 
trio  solely  because  none  of  these  good  friends,  nor 
even  Francoise  herself,  knew  of  her  having  any  heirs. 
The  opulence  in  which  her  young  relation  Mademoi- 
selle de  Bellefeuille  lived  (Madame  Crochard  refrained 
from  calling  Caroline  her  daughter,  according  to  a 
well-known  custom  of  the  Opera  of  her  clay)  seemed 
to  justify  their  scheme  of  sharing  the  property  of  the 
dying  woman  among  themselves. 

Presently  one  of  the  three  crones,  who  was  watching 
the  patient,  put  her  shaking  head  into  the  room  where 
the  other  two  were  waiting,  and  said :  — 

"It  is  time  to  send  for  the  Abbe  Fontanon.  In  two 
hours  from  now  she  will  be  unconscious,  and  could  n't 
sign  her  name." 

Old  Francoise  departed  immediately,  and  soon  re- 
turned with  a  man  in  a  black  coat.     A  narrow  fore- 


222  A  Double  Life. 

head  bespoke  a  narrow  mind  in  this  priest,  whose  face 
was  of  the  commonest,  — his  heavy,  hanging  cheeks, 
his  double  chin,  showing  plainly  enough  a  comfort- 
loving  egotist.  His  powdered  hair  gave  him  a  spe- 
ciously mild  appearance  until  he  raised  his  small  brown 
eyes,  which  were  very  prominent,  and  would  have  been 
in  their  proper  place  beneath  the  brows  of  a  Kalmuc 
Tartar. 

"Monsieur  l'abbe,"  Franeoise  was  saying  to  him, 
"I  thank  you  for  your  advice,  but  you  must  please 
to  remember  the  care  I  have  taken  of  this  dear 
woman  —  " 

Here  she  suddenly  paused,  observing  that  the  door 
of  the  apartment  was  open  and  that  the  most  insinuat- 
ing of  the  three  crones  was  standing  on  the  landing  to 
be  the  first  to  speak  with  the  confessor. 

When  the  ecclesiastic  had  graciously  received  the 
triple  broadside  of  the  three  pious  and  devoted  friends 
of  the  widow  he  went  into  the  latter' s  chamber  and 
sat  down  by  her  bedside.  Decency  and  a  certain 
sense  of  propriety  forced  the  three  ladies  and  old 
Franeoise  to  remain  in  the  adjoining  room,  where 
they  assumed  looks  of  grief  and  mourning,  which 
none  but  wrinkled  old  faces  like  theirs  can  mimic 
to  perfection. 

"Ah!  but  haven't  I  been  unlucky?"  cried  Fran- 
chise, with  a  sigh.  "This  is  the  fourth  mistress  I've 
had  the  grief  to  bury.  The  first  left  me  an  annuity 
of  a  hundred  francs,  the  second  a  hundred  and  fifty, 
the  third  a  sum  down  of  three  thousand.  After  thirty 
years'  service  that 's  all  I  've  got!  " 

The  servant  presently  used  her  right  of  going  and 


A  Double  Life.  223 

coming  to  slip   into   a  little  closet  where  she  could 
overhear  the  priest's  words. 

"I  see  with  pleasure,"  said  Fontanon,  "that  your 
feelings,  my  daughter,  are  those  of  true  piety.  You 
are  wearing,  I  see,  some  holy  relic." 

Madame  Crochard  made  a  vague  movement  which 
showed  perhaps  that  she  was  not  wholly  in  her  right 
mind,  for  she  dragged  out  the  imperial  cross  of  the 
Legion  of  honor. 

The  abba  rolled  back  his  chair  on  beholding  the 
effigy  of  the  emperor.  But  he  soon  drew  closer  to  his 
penitent,  who  talked  to  him  in  so  low  a  voice  that  for 
a  time  Franchise  could  hear  nothing. 

"A  curse  upon  me!/'  cried  the  old  woman  suddenly, 
in  a  louder  voice.  "Don't  abandon  me,  monsieur 
l'abbe.  Do  you  really  think  I  shall  have  to  answer 
for  my  daughter's  soul?  " 

The  priest  spoke  in  so  low  a  voice  that  Francoise 
could  not  hear  him  through  the  partition. 

"Alas!"  cried  the  widow,  shrilly,  "the  wretch  has 
given  me  nothing  that  I  can  will  to  any  one.  When 
he  took  my  poor  Caroline,  he  separated  her  from  me, 
and  gave  me  only  three  thousand  francs  a  year,  the 
capital  of  which  is  to  go  to  my  daughter." 

"Madame  has  a  daughter,  and  only  an  annuity!" 
cried  Francoise,  hastening  into  the  salon. 

The  three  old  women  looked  at  each  other  in  amaze- 
ment. The  one  whose  chin  and  nose  were  nearest 
together  (thus  revealing  a  certain  superior  hypocrisy 
and  shrewdness)  winked  at  the  other  two,  and  as  soon 
as  Franchise  had  turned  her  back  she  made  them  a 
sign  which  meant,  'She  's  a  sly  one;  she  has  got  her- 
self down  on  three  wills  already." 


224  A  Double  Life. 

The  three  old  women  remained  therefore  where  they 
were.  But  the  abbe  presently  joined  them,  and  after 
they  had  heard  what  he  had  to  say,  they  hurried  like 
witches  down  the  stairs  and  out  of  the  house,  leaving 
Francoise  alone  with  her  mistress. 

Madame  Crochard,  whose  sufferings  were  increasing 
cruelly,  rang  in  vain  for  her  maid,  who  was  busy  in 
making  a  search  among  the  old  woman's  receptacles, 
and  contented  herself  by  calling  out  from  time  to 
time :  — 

"Yes,  yes!     I  'm  coming!  —  presently  !  " 

The  doors  of  the  closets  and  wardrobes  were  heard 
to  open  and  shut,  as  if  Francoise  were  looking  for 
some  lottery-ticket  or  bank-note  hidden  among  their 
contents.  At  this  moment,  when  the  crisis  was  im- 
pending, Mademoiselle  de  Bellefeuille  arrived. 

"Oh!  my  dear  mother,"  she  cried,  "how  criminal 
I  am  not  to  have  got  here  sooner!  You  suffer,  and  I 
did  not  know  it!  my  heart  never  told  me  you  were  in 
pain !     But  here  I  am  now  —  " 

"  Caroline. " 

"Yes." 

"They  brought  me  a  priest." 

"A  doctor  is  what  you  want,"  cried  Caroline. 
"Francoise,  fetch  a  doctor.  How  could  those  ladies 
neglect  to  have  a  doctor?  " 

"They  brought  me  a  priest,"  reiterated  Madame 
Crochard,  with  a  sigh. 

"How  she  suffers!  and  not  a  thing  to  give  her;  no 
quieting  medicine,  nothing!  " 

The  mother  made  an  inlistinct  sign;  but  Caroline's 
intelligent  eye  saw  what  was  meant;  she  was  instantly 
silent  herself  that  her  mother  might  speak. 


A  Double  Life.  225 

"They  brought  me  a  priest,"  said  the  old  woman  for 
the  third  time,  "on  pretence  of  confessing  me.  Be- 
ware for  yourself,  Caroline,"  she  cried  out  painfully, 
making  a  last  effort;  "the  priest  dragged  out  of  me 
the  name  of  your  protector." 

"How  did  you  know  it,  my  poor  mother?"  The 
old  woman  died  while  striving  to  look  satirically  at 
her  daughter.  If  Caroline  had  observed  her  mother's 
face  at  that  moment  she  would  have  seen  what  no  one 
will  ever  see,  namely,  —  Death  laughing. 

To  understand  the  secrets  underlying  this  introduc- 
tion to  our  present  Scene,  we  must  for  a  time  forget 
these  personages  and  turn  back  to  the  story  of  anterior 
events.  The  conclusion  of  that  story  will  be  seen  to 
be  connected  with  the  death  of  Madame  Crochard. 
These  two  parts  will  then  form  one  history,  which,  by 
a  law  peculiar  to  Parisian  life,  had  produced  two 
distinct  and  separate  lines  of  action. 


15 


226  A  Double  Life. 


II. 


THE    FIRST    LIFE. 


Toward  the  close  of  November,  1805,  a  young  law- 
yer, then  about  twenty-six  years  of  age,  was  coming 
down  the  grand  staircase  of  the  mansion  occupied  by 
the  arch-chancellor  of  the  Empire,  about  three  in 
the  morning.  When  he  reached  the  court-yard  in  his 
evening  dress  and  saw  a  thin  coating  of  ice,  he  gave 
an  exclamation  of  dismay,  through  which,  however, 
shone  that  sense  of  amusement  which  seldom  deserts 
a  Frenchman.  Looking  about  him  he  saw  no  hack- 
ney-coaches, and  heard  in  the  distance  none  of  those 
familiar  sounds  produced  by  the  wooden  shoes  of  Par- 
isian coachmen  and  their  gruff  voices.  The  tramp- 
ling of  a  few  horses  were  heard  in  the  court-yard, 
among  them  those  of  the  chief-justice,  whom  the 
young  man  had  just  seen  playing  cards  with  Cam- 
baceres.  Suddenly  he  felt  the  friendly  clap  of  a  hand 
upon  his  shoulder;  looking  round,  he  beheld  the  chief- 
justice  and  bowed  to  him. 

As  the  footman  was  letting  down  the  steps  of  his 
carriage,  the  former  legislator  of  the  Convention  had 
observed  the  young  man's  predicament. 

"All  cats  are  gray  at  night,"  he  said,  gayly.  "The 
chief-justice  won't  compromise  himself  if  he  does 
take   a   barrister    to    his   lodgings.     Especially,"    he 


A  Double  Life.  227 

added,  "if  the  said  barrister  is  the  nephew  of  an  old 
colleague,  and  one  of  the  lights  of  that  great  Council 
of  State  which  gave  the  Code  Napoleon  to  France." 

The  young  man  got  into  the  carriage,  obeying  an 
imperative  sign  from  the  chief  law  officer  of  imperial 
justice. 

"Where  do  you  live?"  asked  the  minister,  while  the 
footman  awaited  the  order  before  he  closed  the  door. 

"Quai  des  Augustins,  monseigneur." 

The  horses  started,  and  the  young  lawyer  found 
himself  tete  a  tete  with  the  minister,  whom  he  had 
vainly  endeavored  to  speak  with  both  during  and  after 
the  sumptuous  dinner  of  Cambaceres;  it  was  evident 
to  his  mind  that  the  chief-justice  had  taken  pains  to 
avoid  him  during  the  whole  evening. 

"Well,  Monsieur  de  Granville,  it  seems  to  me  that 
you  are  on  the  right  road  now  —  " 

"So  long  as  I  am  seated  by  your  Excellency  —  " 

"I'm  not  joking,"  said  the  minister.  "You  were 
called  to  the  bar  two  years  ago,  and  since  then  your 
defence  in  the  Simeuse  and  the  Hauteserre  trials  have 
placed  you  very  high." 

"I  have  thought,  until  now,  that  my  devotion  to 
those  unfortunate  emigres  did  me  an  injury." 

"You  are  very  young,"  said  the  minister,  gravely. 
"But,"  he  added,  after  a  pause,  "you  pleased  the 
arch-chancellor  to-night.  Enter  the  magistracy  of  the 
bar;  we  back  the  right  men  there.  The  nephew  of  a 
man  for  whom  Cambaceres  and  I  feel  the  deepest 
interest  ought  not  to  remain  a  mere  pleader  for  want 
of  influence.  Your  uncle  helped  us  to  come  safely 
through  a  stormy  period,  and  such  services  must  not 
be  forgotten." 


228  A  Double  Life. 

The  minister  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "Before 
long,"  he  resumed,  "I  shall  have  three  places  vacant, 
in  the  Lower  court  and  in  the  Imperial  court  of  Paris ; 
come  and  see  me  then,  and  choose  the  one  that  suits 
you.  Until  then,  work  hard ;  but  do  not  come  to  my 
court.  In  the  first  place,  I  am  overrun  with  work; 
and  in  the  next,  your  rivals  will  guess  your  intentions 
and  try  to  injure  you.  Cambaceres  and  I,  by  saying 
not  one  word  to  you  to-night,  were  protecting  you 
from  the  dangers  of  favoritism." 

As  the  minister  ended  these  words  the  carriage  drew 
up  on  the  Quai  des  Augustins.  The  young  barrister 
thanked  his  generous  protector  with  effusive  warmth 
of  heart,  and  rapped  loudly  on  the  door,  for  the  keen 
north  wind  blew  about  his  calves  with  wintry  rigor. 
Presently  an  old  porter  drew  the  cord,  and,  as  the 
young  man  entered,  he  called  to  him  in  a  wheezy 
voice :  — 

"Monsieur,  here  's  a  letter  for  you." 

The  young  man  took  it,  and  tried,  in  spite  of  the 
cold,  to  read  the  writing  by  the  paling  gleam  of  a 
street-lamp. 

"It  is  from  my  father!"  he  exclaimed,  taking  his 
candlestick  from  the  porter.  He  then  ran  rapidly  up 
to  his  room  and  read  the  following  letter:  — 


*© 


"Take  the  mail  coach,  and,  if  you  get  here  promptly, 
your  fortune  is  made.  Mademoiselle  Ang61ique  Bon- 
tems  has  lost  her  sister;  she  is  now  the  only  child, 
and  we  know  that  she  does  not  hate  you.  Madame 
Bontems  will  probably  leave  her  forty  thousand  francs 
a  year  in  addition  to  her  dowry.    I  have  prepared  your 


A  Double  Life.  229 

■way.  Our  friends  may  be  surprised  to  see  a  noble 
family  like  ours  ally  itself  with  the  Bontems.  It 
is  true  that  old  Bontems  was  a  bonnet  rouge  of  the 
deepest  dye,  who  got  possession  of  a  vast  amount  of 
the  national  property  for  almost  nothing.  But  in  the 
first  place,  what  he  got  was  the  property  of  monks 
who  will  never  return,  and  in  the  next,  inasmuch  as 
you  have  already  derogated  from  our  station  in  mak- 
ing yourself  a  barrister,  I  don't  see  why  we  should 
shrink  from  making  another  concession  to  modern 
ideas.  The  girl  will  have  three  hundred  thousand 
francs,  and  I  will  give  you  one  hundred  thousand; 
your  mother's  property  is  worth  a  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  more,  or  nearly  that.  Therefore,  my  dear 
son,  if  you  are  willing  to  enter  the  magistracy,  I  see 
you  in  a  fair  way  to  become  a  senator  like  the  rest 
of  them.  My  brother-in-law,  the  councillor  of  State, 
will  not  lend  a  hand  for  that,  I  know,  but  as  he  is  not 
married,  his  property  will  be  yours  some  day.  In 
reaching  that  position  you  perch  high  enough  to  watch 
events. 

"Adieu;  I  embrace  you." 

Young  de  Granville  went  to  bed  with  his  head  full 
of  projects,  each  one  more  delightful  than  the  last. 
Powerfully  protected  by  Cambaceres,  the  chief-justice, 
and  his  maternal  uncle,  who  was  one  of  the  construc- 
tors of  the  Code,  he  was  about  to  begin  his  career  in 
an  enviable  position  before  the  leading  court  of  France 
and  a  member  of  that  bar  from  which  Napoleon  was 
selecting  the  highest  functionaries  of  his  empire.  And 
now,  in  addition  to  these  prospects,  came  that  of  a 


230  A  Double  Life. 

fortune  sufficiently  brilliant  to  enable  him  to  sustain 
his  rank,  to  which  the  puny  revenue  of  five  thousand 
francs  which  he  derived  from  an  estate  left  him  by  his 
mother  would  not  have  sufficed. 

To  complete  his  dreams  of  ambition  came  those 
of  personal  happiness;  he  evoked  the  naive  face  of 
Mademoiselle  Angelique  Bontems,  the  companion  of 
his  childish  plays.  So  long  as  he  remained  a  mere 
child  his  father  and  mother  had  not  opposed  his  inti- 
macy with  the  pretty  daughter  of  their  country  neigh- 
bor; but  when,  during  hi3  short  visits  to  Bayeux  at 
the  time  of  his  college  vacations,  his  parents,  bigoted 
aristocrats,  noticed  his  affection  for  the  young  girl, 
they  forbade  him  to  think  of  her.  For  ten  years  past 
young  Granville  had  seldom  seen  his  former  com- 
panion j  whom  he  called  his  "little  wife."  On  the  few 
occasions  when  the  young  pair  had  managed  to  evade 
the  watchfulness  of  their  families,  they  had  scarcely 
done  more  than  exchange  a  few  words  as  they  passed 
in  the  street  or  sat  near  each  other  in  church.  Their 
fortunate  days  were  those  when  they  met  at  some  rural 
fete,  called  in  Normandy  an  "assembly,"  when  they 
were  able  to  watch  each  other  furtively.  During  his 
last  vacation,  Granville  had  seen  Angelique  twice; 
and  the  lowered  eyes  and  dejected  look  of  his  "little 
wife  "  made  him  think  she  was  oppressed  by  some 
secret  despotism. 

The  morning  after  receiving  his  father's  letter,  the 
young  lawyer  appeared  at  the  coach  office  in  the  rue 
Notre-Dame  des  Victoires,  by  seven  o'clock,  and  was 
lucky  enough  to  get  a  seat  iu  the  diligence  then 
starting  for  Caen. 


A  Double  Life,  231 

It  was  not  without  deep  emotion  that  the  new  bar- 
rister beheld  the  towers  of  the  cathedral  of  Bayeux. 
No  hope  of  his  life  had  yet  been  disappointed;  his 
heart  was  opening  to  all  the  noblest  sentiments  which 
stir  the  youthful  mind.  After  an  over-long  banquet 
of  welcome  with  his  father  and  a  few  old  friends,  the 
impatient  young  man  was  taken  to  a  certain  house  in 
the  rue  Teinture,  already  well-known  to  him.  His 
heart  beat  violently  as  his  father  —  who  was  still 
called  in  Bayeux  the  Comte  de  Granville  —  rapped 
loudly  at  a  porte-cochere,  the  green  paint  of  which 
was  peeling  off  in  scales. 

It  was  four  in  the  afternoon.  A  young  servant- 
girl,  wearing  a  cotton  cap,  saluted  the  gentlemen  with 
a  bob  courtesy,  and  replied  that  the  ladies  were  at 
vespers,  but  would  soon  be  home.  The  count  and  his 
son  were  shown  into  a  lower  room  which  served  as  a 
salon  and  looked  like  the  parlor  of  a  convent.  Panels 
of  polished  walnut  darkened  the  room,  around  which 
a  few  chairs  covered  with  tapestry  were  symmetrically 
placed.  The  sole  ornament  of  the  stone  chimney- 
piece  was  a  green-hued  mirror,  from  either  side  of 
which  projected  the  twisted  arms  of  those  old-fashioned 
candelabra  made  at  the  time  of  the  Peace  of  Utrecht. 
On  the  panelled  wall  opposite  to  the  fireplace  young 
Granville  saw  an  enormous  crucifix  of  ebony  and 
ivory  weathed  with  consecrated  box. 

Though  lighted  by  three  windows,  which  looked  upon 
a  provincial  garden  of  symmetrical  square  beds  out- 
lined with  box,  the  room  was  so  dark  that  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  distinguish  on  the  wall  opposite  to  the  windows 
three  church  pictures,  the  work  of  some  learned  artist, 


232  A  Double  Life. 

and  bought,  during  the  Revolution  no  doubt,  by  old 
Bontems,  who,  in  his  capacity  as  head  of  the  district, 
did  not  forget  his  own  interests. 

From  the  carefully  waxed  floor  to  the  curtains  of 
green  checked  linen  everything  shone  with  monastic 
cleanliness.  The  heart  of  the  young  man  was  chilled 
involuntarily  by  this  silent  retreat  in  which  Angelique 
lived.  His  recent  experience  of  the  brilliant  salons 
of  Paris  in  the  vortex  of  continual  fetes  had  easily 
effaced  from  his  mind  the  dull  and  placid  life  of  the 
provinces ;  the  contrast  was  now  so  abruptly  presented 
that  he  was  conscious  of  a  species  of  inward  repug- 
nance. To  come  from  a  reception  at  Cambaceres, 
where  life  was  so  ample,  where  intellects  had  breadth 
and  compass,  where  the  imperial  glory  was  so  vividly 
reflected,  and  to  fall  suddenly  into  a  circle  of  mean 
ideas  was  like  being  transported  from  Italy  to  Green- 
land. 

"To  live  here!  why,  it  is  not  living,"  he  said  in- 
wardly, as  he  looked  round  this  salon  of  methodism. 

The  old  count,  who  noted  the  surprise  on  his  son's 
face,  took  his  arm  and  led  him  to  a  window  where 
there  was  still  a  little  light,  and  while  the  woman  lit 
the  yellowed  candles  above  the  chimney-piece,  he  en- 
deavored to  disperse  the  clouds  that  this  aspect  of 
dulness  gathered  on  the  young  man's  brow. 

"Listen,  my  boy,"  he  said.  "The  widow  of  old 
Bontems  is  desperately  pious,  —  when  the  devil  gets 
old,  you  know !  I  see  that  the  odor  of  sanctity  is  too 
much  for  you.  Well,  now,  here  's  the  truth.  The  old 
woman  is  besieged  by  priests;  they  have  persuaded 
her  that  she  has  still  time  to  go  straight  to  heaven ; 


A  Double  Life.  233 

and  so,  to  make  sure  of  Saint  Peter  and  his  keys,  she 
buys  them.  She  goes  to  mass  every  day,  takes  the 
sacrament  every  Sunday  that  God  creates,  and  amuses 
herself  by  restoring  chapels.  She  has  given  the  cathe- 
dral so  many  ornaments,  albs,  and  copes,  she  has 
bedizened  the  canopy  with  such  loads  of  feathers  that 
the  last  procession  of  the  Fete-Dieu  brought  a  greater 
crowd  than  a  hanging,  merely  to  see  the  priests  so 
gorgeously  dressed  and  all  their  utensils  regilt.  This 
house,  my  boy,  is  holy  ground.  But  I  've  managed 
to  persuade  the  foolish  old  thing  not  to  give  those 
pictures  you  see  there  to  the  church;  one  is  a  Do- 
menichino,  the  other  two,  Correggio  and  Andrea  del 
Sarto,  — worth  a  great  deal  of  money." 

"But  Angelique?"  asked  the  young  man,  eagerly. 

"If  you  don't  marry  her  Angelique  is  lost,"  replied 
the  count.  "Our  good  apostles  keep  advising  her  to 
be  a  virgin  and  martyr.  I  've  had  a  world  of  trouble 
to  rouse  her  little  heart  by  talking  of  you, —  ever  since 
she  became  an  only  child.  But  can't  you  see  that, 
once  married,  you  '11  take  her  to  Paris,  and  once  there 
fetes,  and  marriage,  and  the  theatre  and  the  excite- 
ments of  Parisian  life  will  soon  make  her  forget  the 
confessionals  and  fasts,  hair-shirts  and  masses  on 
which  these  creatures  feed  ?  " 

"But  won't  the  fifty  thousand  francs  a  year  derived 
from  ecclesiastical  property  be  given  back?" 

"Ah!  there's  the  rub,"  cried  the  count,  with  a 
knowing  look.  "In  consideration  of  this  marriage  — 
for  Madame  Bontems'  vanity  is  not  a  little  tickled  at 
the  idea  of  grafting  the  Bontems  on  the  genealogical 
tree  of  the  Granvilles  —  the  said   mother   gives  her 


234  A  Double  Life. 

fortune  outright  to  her  daughter,  reserving  to  herself 
only  a  life- interest  in  it.  Of  course  the  clergy  oppose 
the  marriage ;  but  I  have  had  the  banns  published ;  all 
is  ready ;  in  a  week  you  '11  be  out  of  the  claws  of  the 
old  woman  and  her  abbes.  You  '11  get  the  prettiest 
girl  in  Bayeux,  —  a  little  duck  who  '11  never  give  you 
any  trouble,  for  she  has  principles.  She  has  been 
mortified  in  the  flesh,  as  they  say  in  their  jargon,  by 
fasts  and  prayers,  and,"  he  added,  in  a  low  voice, 
uby  her  mother." 

A  rap  discreetly  given  to  the  door  silenced  the 
count,  who  expected  to  see  the  two  ladies  enter.  A 
young  servant-lad  with  an  air  of  important  business 
entered,  but,  intimidated  by  the  sight  of  two  strangers, 
he  made  a  sign  to  the  woman,  who  went  up  to  him. 
The  lad  wore  a  blue  jacket  with  short  tails  which 
flapped  about  his  hips,  and  blue  and  white  striped 
trousers;  his  hair  was  cut  round,  and  his  face  was 
that  of  a  choir-boy,  so  expressive  was  it  of  that  forced 
compunction  which  all  the  members  of  a  devote  house- 
hold acquire. 

"Mademoiselle  Gatienne,  do  you  know  where  the 
books  for  the  Office  of  the  Virgin  are?  The  ladies  of 
the  congregation  of  the  Sacre-Coeur  are  to  make  a 
procession  this  evening  in  the  church." 

Gatienne  went  to  fetch  the  books. 

"Will  it  take  long,  my  little  friar?"  asked  the 
count. 

"Oh!  not  more  than  half  an  hour." 

"Suppose  we  go  and  see  it;  lots  of  pretty  women," 
said  the  father  to  the  son.  "Besides,  a  visit  to  the 
cathedral  won't  do  us  any  harm  " 


A  Double  Life.  235 

The  young  lawyer  followed  bis  father  with  an  irreso- 
lute air. 

"What 's  the  matter  with  you?  "  asked  the  count. 

"Well,  the  fact  is,  father,  that  I  —  I  —  I  think  I  am 
right." 

"But  you  haven't  yet  said  anything." 

"True;  but  I  have  been  thinking  that  having  saved 
a  part  of  your  former  fortune  you  will  leave  it  to  me 
some  day,  and  a  long  day  hence  I  hope.  Now  if  you 
are  willing  to  give  me,  as  you  say,  a  hundred  thousand 
francs  to  make  this  marriage,  which  may  be  a  foolish 
one,  I  'd  rather  take  fifty  thousand  to  escape  unhappi- 
ness  and  stav  a  bachelor.  Even  so  I  shall  have  a  for- 
tune  equal  to  that  which  Mademoiselle  Bontems  will 
bring  me." 

"Are  you  crazy?  " 

"No,  father.  Here  is  what  I  mean.  The  chief  - 
justice  promised  me  two  days  ago  an  appointment  at 
the  Paris  bar.  Fifty  thousand  francs  joined  to  what 
I  now  possess,  together  with  the  salary  of  the  place, 
will  give  me  an  income  of  twelve  thousand  francs; 
and  I  should  undoubtedly  have  opportunities  of  for- 
tune far  preferable  to  those  of  a  marriage  which  may 
prove  as  poor  in  happiness  as  it  is  rich  in  means." 

"I  see  plainly,"  said  his  father,  laughing,  "that 
you  never  lived  under  the  anclen  regime.  Did  we  of 
that  day  ever  trouble  ourselves  about  our  wives,  I  'd 
like  to  know?  " 

"  But,  father,  marriage  has  become  in  our  day  —  " 

"Ahca!"  said  the  count,  interrupting  his  son, 
"then  all  is  true  that  my  old  friends  of  the  emigration 
used  to  tell  me?     Has  the  Revolution  bequeathed  us 


236  A  Double  Life. 

nothing  but  life  without  gayety,  infecting  the  youth 
of  France  with  equivocal  principles?  Are  you  going 
to  talk  to  me,  like  my  brother-in-law  the  Jacobin,  of 
the  Nation,  and  public  morality,  and  disinterested- 
ness? Good  heavens!  without  the  Emperor's  sisters 
what  would  become  of  us  ?  " 

The  old  mau,  still  vigorous,  whom  the  peasants  on 
his  property  continued  to  call  the  Seigneur  de  Gran- 
ville, concluded  these  words  as  they  entered  the  cathe- 
dral. Disregarding  the  sanctity  of  the  place,  he 
hummed  an  air  from  the  opera  of  "Rose  et  Colas  " 
while  taking  the  holy  water;  then  he  led  his  son  along 
the  lateral  aisles,  stopping  at  each  column  to  examine 
the  rows  of  heads,  lined  up  like  those  of  soldiers  on 
parade. 

The  special  office  of  the  Sacre'-Cceur  was  about  to 
begin.  The  ladies  belonging  to  that  society  had 
gathered  near  the  choir;  the  count  and  his  son  moved 
on  to  that  part  of  the  nave  and  stood  leaning  against 
a  column  in  the  darkest  corner,  whence  they  could  see 
the  entire  mass  of  heads,  which  bore  some  resemblance 
to  a  meadow  studded  with  flowers. 

Suddenly,  within  a  few  feet  of  young  Granville,  the 
sweetest  voice  he  could  conceive  a  human  being  to 
possess  rose  like  the  song  of  the  first  nightingale 
after  a  dreary  winter.  Though  accompanied  by  other 
women's  voices  and  the  tones  of  the  organ,  that  voice 
stirred  his  nerves  as  if  they  had  been  suddenly  assailed 
by  the  too  rich,  too  keen  notes  of  an  harmonica.  The 
Parisian  turned  round  and  saw  a  young  girl  whose  face, 
from  the  bowed  attitude  of  the  head,  was  completely 
hidden  in  a  large  bonnet  of  some  white  material.     He 


A  Double  Life.  237 

felt  it  was  from  her  that  this  clear  melody  proceeded ; 
he  fancied  that  he  recognized  Angelique  in  spite  of 
the  brown  pelisse  which  wrapped  her  figure,  and  he 
nudged  his  father's  arm. 

"Yes,  that  *s  she,"  said  the  count,  after  looking  in 
the  direction  his  son  had  pointed  out. 

The  old  gentleman  showed  by  a  gesture  the  pale 
face  of  an  elderly  woman  whose  eyes,  encircled  by 
dark  lines,  had  already  taken  note  of  the  strangers, 
though  her  deceitful  glance  seemed  never  to  have  left 
her  prayer-book. 

Angelique  raised  her  head  toward  the  altar,  as  if  to 
inhale  the  penetrating  perfume  of  the  iucense,  clouds 
of  which  were  floating  near  the  women.  By  the  mys- 
terious gleams  cast  from  the  tapers,  the  lamp  of  the 
nave,  and  a  few  wax-candles  fastened  to  the  columns, 
the  young  man  saw  a  sight  which  shook  his  resolu- 
tions. A  white  silk  bonnet  framed  a  face  of  charming 
regularity,  ending  the  oval  by  a  bow  of  satin  ribbon 
beneath  the  dimpled  chin.  Above  a  narrow  but  deli- 
cate forehead  the  pale  gold  hair  was  parted  into  bands 
which  came  down  upon  her  cheeks  like  the  shadow  of 
foliage  on  a  bunch  of  flowers.  The  arches  of  the  eye- 
brows were  drawn  with  the  precision  so  much  admired 
on  beautiful  Chinese  faces.  The  nose,  almost  aqui- 
line, possessed  an  unusual  firmness  of  outline,  and 
the  lips  were  like  two  rosy  lines  traced  by  love's  most 
delicate  implement.  The  eyes,  of  a  pale,  clear  blue, 
were  expressive  of  purity. 

Though  Granville  remarked  a  sort  of  rigid  silence 
upon  this  charming  face,  he  could  readily  assign  it  to 
the  feelings  of  devotion  that  were  then  in  the  girl's 


238  A  Double  Life. 

soul.  The  sacred  words  of  the  prayer  passed  from 
those  rosy  lips  in  a  cloud,  as  it  were,  of  perfume, 
which  the  cold  of  the  church  sent  visibly  into  the 
atmosphere.  Involuntarily,  the  young  man  bent  for- 
ward to  breathe  that  divine  exhalation.  The  move- 
ment attracted  the  girl's  attention,  and  her  eyes, 
hitherto  fixed  on  the  altar,  turned  toward  Granville. 
The  dim  light  showed  him  to  her  indistinctly,  but  she 
recognized  the  companion  of  her  childhood;  a  memory 
more  powerful  than  prayer  brought  a  vivid  brilliancy 
to  her  face,  and  she  blushed.  The  young  man  quivered 
with  joy  as  the  emotions  of  another  life  were  visibly 
vanquished  by  emotions  of  love,  and  the  solemnity  of 
the  sanctuary  seemed  eclipsed  by  earthly  memories. 
But  his  triumph  was  soon  over.  Angelique  lowered 
her  veil,  recovered  a  calm  countenance,  and  began 
once  more  to  sing  without  a  thrill  in  her  voice  that 
showed  the  least  emotion.  But  Granville  found  him- 
self under  the  thraldom  of  a  new  desire,  and  all  his 
ideas  of  prudence  vanished. 

By  the  time  the  service  was  over  his  impatience  had 
become  so  great  that  without  allowing  the  ladies  to 
return  home  he  went  up  at  once  to  greet  his  ''little 
wife."  A  recognition  that  was  shy  on  both  sides  took 
place  in  the  porch  of  the  cathedral  under  the  eyes  of  the 
faithful.  Madame  Bontems  trembled  with  pride  as  she 
took  the  arm  which  the  Comte  de  Granville,  much 
provoked  by  his  son's  scarcely  decent  impatience, 
was  forced  to  offer  her  before  the  eyes  of  all  present. 

During  the  fifteen  days  that  now  elapsed  between 
the  official  presentation  of  the  young  Vicomte  de  Gran- 
ville as  the  accepted  suitor  of  Mademoiselle  Angelique 


A  Double  Life.  239 

Bontems  and  the  solemn  day  of  the  marriage,  the 
young  mau  came  assiduously  to  visit  his  love  in  the 
gloomy  parlor,  to  which  he  grew  accustomed.  These 
long  visits  were  partly  made  for  the  purpose  of  watch- 
ing Angelique's  nature;  for  Granville's  prudence  re- 
vived on  the  day  after  that  first  interview.  He  always 
found  his  future  wife  seated  before  a  little  table  of 
Santa  Lucia  wood,  employed  in  marking  the  linen 
of  her  trousseau.  Angelique  never  spoke  first  of 
religion.  If  the  young  lawyer  began  to  play  with  the 
beads  of  the  handsome  rosary  which  lay  beside  her  in 
a  crimson  velvet  bag,  if  he  smiled  as  he  looked  at  a 
relic  which  always  accompanied  that  instrument  of 
devotion,  Angelique  would  take  the  chaplet  gently 
from  his  hands,  giving  him  a  supplicating  look;  then, 
without  a  word,  she  replaced  it  in  its  bag  and  locked 
them  up.  If,  occasionally  (to  test  her),  Granville 
risked  some  objecting  remark  against  certain  prac- 
tices of  religion,  the  'pretty  creature  would  listen  to 
him  with  the  settled  smile  of  fixed  conviction  on  her 
lips. 

"We  must  either  believe  nothing,  or  believe  all  that 
the  Church  teaches,"  she  replied.  "Would  you  wish  a 
girl  without  religion  for  the  mother  of  your  children? 
No.  What  man  would  dare  to  judge  between  God 
and  the  unbelievers?  Can  I  blame  what  the  Church 
eujoins?" 

Angelique  seemed  so  inspired  by  fervent  charity, 
Granville  saw  her  turn  such  penetrating  and  beseech- 
ing glances  on  him,  that  he  was  several  times  tempted 
to  embrace  her  religion.  The  profound  conviction  she 
felt  of  walking  in  the  true  and  only  path  awoke  in  the 


240  A  Double  Life, 

heart  of  the  future  magistrate  certain  doubts  of  which 
she  endeavored  to  make  the  most. 

Granville  then  committed  the  enormous  fault  of 
mistaking  the  signs  of  an  eager  desire  for  those  of 
love.  Angelique  was  so  pleased  to  unite  the  voice 
of  her  heart  with  that  of  her  duty,  in  yielding  to  an 
inclination  she  had  felt  from  childhood,  that  the  young 
man,  misled,  did  not  distinguish  which  of  the  two 
voices  was  the  stronger.  Are  not  all  young  men 
primarily  disposed  to  trust  the  promises  of  a  pretty 
face,  and  to  infer  beauty  of  soul  from  beauty  of 
feature?  An  indefinable  feeling  leads  them  to  believe 
that  moral  perfection  must  coincide  with  physical  per- 
fection. If  her  religion  had  not  permitted  Angelique 
to  yield  to  her  feelings  they  would  soon  have  dried  up 
in  her  heart  like  a  plant  watered  with  an  acid.  Could 
a  lover  beloved  become  aware  of  the  secret  fanaticism 
of  the  girl's  nature? 

Such  was  the  history  of  young  Granville's  feelings 
during  this  fortnight,  devoured  like  a  book  whose 
denouement  is  absorbing.  Angelique,  attentively 
studied,  seemed  to  him  the  gentlest  of  womankind, 
and  he  even  found  himself  giving  thanks  to  Madame 
Bontems,  who,  by  inculcating  the  principles  of  religion 
so  strongly  in  her  daughter,  had  trained  her,  as  it 
were,  to  meet  the  trials  of  life. 

On  the  day  appointed  for  the  signing  of  the  mar- 
riage contract  Madame  Bontems  made  her  son-in-law 
swear  solemnly  to  respect  the  religious  practices  of 
her  daughter,  to  allow  her  absolute  liberty  of  con- 
science, to  let  her  take  the  sacrament  and  go  to  church 
and  to  confession  as  often  as  she  pleased,  and  never 


A  Double  Life.  241 

to  oppose  her  in  her  choice  of  a  confessor.  At  this 
solemn  moment  Angelique  looked  at  her  future  hus- 
band with  so  pure  and  innocent  an  air  that  Granville 
did  not  hesitate  to  take  the  required  oath.  A  smile 
flickered  on  the  lips  of  the  Abbe  Fontanon,  the  pallid 
priest  who  directed  the  consciences  of  the  family. 
With  a  slight  motion  of  her  head,  Mademoiselle 
Bontems  promised  her  lover  never  to  make  an  ill  use 
of  that  liberty  of  conscience.  As  for  the  old  count, 
he  whistled  under  his  breath,  to  the  tune  of  "Va-t-en 
voir  s'ils  viennent." 

After  the  proper  number  of  days  granted  to  the 
retours  de  ?wces,  customary  in  the  provinces,  Gran- 
ville returned  with  his  wife  to  Paris,  where  the  young 
lawyer  was  now  appointed  as  substitute  to  perform 
the  duties  of  attorney-general  to  the  imperial  court 
of  the  Seine.  When  the  new  couple  began  to  look 
about  them  for  a  residence,  Angelique  employed  the 
influence  possessed  by  every  woman  during  the  honey- 
moon to  induce  Granville  to  take  a  large  apartment  on 
the  ground-floor  of  a  house  which  formed  the  corner 
of  the  rue  Vieille-du-Temple  and  the  rue  Neuve-Saint- 
Francois.  The  principal  reason  for  her  choice  was 
the  fact  that  this  house  was  close  to  the  rue  d' Orleans, 
in  which  was  a  church,  and  it  was  also  near  a  small 
chapel  in  the  rue  Saint-Louis. 

"A  good  housekeeper  makes  proper  provision,"  said 
her  husband,  laughing. 

Angelique  begged  him  to  observe  that  the  Marais 
quarter  was  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Palais  de  Jus- 
tice, and  that  the  magistrates  he  had  just  called  upon 
lived  there.     A  large  garden  gave,  for  a  young  house- 

16 


242  A  Double  Life. 

hold,  an  additional  value  to  the  residence,  — their  chil- 
dren, "if  heaven  sent  them  any,"  could  play  there;  the 
court-yard  was  spacious,  and  the  stables  were  fine. 
Granville  would  much  have  preferred  a  house  in  the 
Chaussee-d'Antin,  where  everything  was  young  and 
lively,  where  the  fashions  appear  in  all  their  novelty, 
where  the  neighboring  population  is  elegant,  and  the 
distance  less  to  theatres  and  other  sources  of  amuse- 
ment. But  he  found  himself  forced  to  yield  to  the 
persuasions  of  a  young  wife  making  her  first  request, 
and  thus,  solely  to  please  her,  he  buried  himself  in 
the  Marais. 

Granville's  new  functions  required  an  assiduous 
labor,  all  the  more  because  they  were  new  to  him ;  he 
therefore  gave  his  first  thought  to  the  furnishing  of 
his  study  and  the  arrangement  of  his  library,  where 
he  quickly  installed  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  mass 
of  documents,  leaving  his  young  wife  to  direct  the 
decoration  of  the  rest  of  the  house.  He  threw  the 
responsibility  of  these  purchases,  usually  a  source  of 
pleasure  and  tender  recollection  to  young  wives,  the 
more  willingly  upon  Angelique  because  he  was  ashamed 
of  depriving  her  of  his  presence  far  more  than  the 
rules  of  the  honeymoon  permitted.  But  after  he  had 
thoroughly  settled  to  his  work,  the  young  official 
allowed  his  wife  to  entice  him  out  of  his  study  and 
show  him  the  effect  of  the  furniture  and  decorations, 
which  so  far  he  had  only  seen  piecemeal. 

If  it  is  true,  as  the  adage  says,  that  we  may  judge 
of  a  woman  by  the  door  of  her  house,  the  rooms  of 
that  house  must  reveal  her  mind  with  even  more 
fidelity.     Whether  it  was  that  Madame  de  Granville 


A  Double  Life.  243 

had  given  her  custom  to  tradesmen  without  any  taste, 
or  that  her  own  nature  was  inscribed  on  the  quantity 
of  things  ordered  by  her,  certain  it  is  that  the  young 
husband  was  astonished  at  the  dreariness  and  cold 
solemnity  that  reigned  in  the  new  home.  He  saw 
nothing  graceful;  all  was  discord;  no  pleasure  was 
granted  to  the  eye.  The  spirit  of  formality  and  petti- 
ness which  characterized  the  parlor  at  Bayeux  reap- 
peared in  the  Parisian  salon  beneath  ceilings  and 
cornices  decorated  with  commonplace  arabesques,  the 
Ion sf  convoluted  strands  of  which  were  in  execrable 
taste. 

With  the  desire  to  exonerate  his  wife,  the  young 
man  retraced  his  steps  and  examined  once  more  the 
long  and  lofty  antechamber  through  which  the  apart- 
ment was  entered.  The  color  of  the  woodwork,  chosen 
by  his  wife,  was  much  too  sombre;  the  dark-green 
velvet  that  covered  the  benches  only  added  to  the  d ill- 
ness of  the  room,  —  of  no  great  importance,  to  be  sure, 
except  as  it  gave  an  idea  of  the  rest  of  the  house; 
just  as  we  often  judge  of  a  man's  mind  by  his  first 
words.  An  antechamber  is  a  species  of  preface  which 
announces  all,  but  pledges  nothing.  The  young  man 
asked  himself  if  his  wife  could  really  have  chosen  the 
lamp  in  the  form  of  an  antique  lantern  which  hung  in 
the  middle  of  this  barren  hall,  that  was  paved  with 
black  and  white  marble  and  hung  with  a  paper  imitat- 
ing blocks  of  stone  with  here  and  there  green  patches 
of  simulated  moss  and  lichen.  A  large  but  old  barom- 
eter hung  in  the  centre  of  one  of  the  panels  as  if  to 
make  the  barrenness  of  the  place  more  visible. 

The  husband  looked  at  his  wife;    he  saw   her   so 


244  A  Double  Life. 

satisfied  with  the  red  trimmings  that  edged  the  cotton 
curtains,  so  pleased  with  the  barometer  and  the  decent 
statue  which  adorned  the  top  of  a  huge  gothic  stove, 
that  he  had  not  the  barbarous  courage  to  destroy 
those  fond  illusions.  Instead  of  condemning  his  wife, 
Granville  condemned  himself;  he  blamed  his  neglect 
of  his  first  duty,  which  was  surely  to  guide  the  steps 
of  a  girl  brought  up  in  Bayeux  and  ignorant  of  Paris. 
After  this  specimen,  the  reader  can  easily  imagine 
the  decoration  of  the  other  rooms.  What  could  be 
expected  of  a  young  woman  who  took  fright  at  the 
legs  of  a  caryatide,  and  rejected  with  disgust  a  cande- 
labrum or  a  bit  of  furniture  if  the  nudity  of  an 
Egyptian  torso  appeared  upon  it.  At  this  period  the 
school  of  David  had  reached  the  apex  of  its  fame; 
everything  in  France  felt  the  influence  of  the  correct- 
ness of  his  drawing  and  his  love  for  antique  forms, 
which  made  his  painting,  as  one  might  say,  a  species 
of  colored  sculpture.  But  none  of  the  inventions  of 
imperial  luxury  obtained  a  place  in  Madame  de  Gran- 
ville's home.  The  vast  square  salon  retained  the  white 
paint  and  the  faded  gilding  of  the  Louis  XV.  period, 
in  which  the  architects  were  prodigal  of  those  insuf- 
ferable festoons  due  to  the  sterile  fecundity  of  the 
designers  of  that  epoch.  If  the  slightest  harmony 
had  reigned,  if  the  articles  of  furniture  had  taken,  in 
modern  mahogany,  the  twisted  forms  brought  into 
fashion  by  the  corrupted  taste  of  Boucher,  Ang^lique's 
house  would  merely  have  offered  the  odd  contrast  of 
young  people  living  in  the  nineteenth  century  as  if 
they  belonged  to  the  eighteenth;  but  no, — a  mass 
of  heterogeneous  things  produced  the  most  ridiculous 


A  Double  Life.  245 

anachronisms.  The  consoles ,  clocks,  and  candelabra 
represented  warriors  and  their  attributes,  which  the 
triumphs  of  the  Empire  had  rendered  dear  to  Paris. 
Greek  helmets,  Roman  broad-swords,  shields  due  to 
military  enthusiasm  which  now  decorated  the  most 
pacific  articles  of  furniture  were  little  in  accordance 
with  the  delicate  and  prolix  arabesques,  the  delight 
of  Madame  de  Pompadour.  Pietistic  devotion  carries 
with  it  a  sort  of  wearisome  humility,  which  does  not 
exclude  pride.  Whether  from  modesty  or  natural 
inclination,  Madame  de  Granville  seemed  to  have  a 
horror  for  light  or  gay  colors.  Perhaps  she  thought 
that  brown  and  purple  comported  best  with  the  dignity 
of  a  magistrate.  How  could  a  young  girl  accustomed 
to  an  austere  life  conceive  of  those  luxurious  sofas, 
those  elegant  and  treacherous  boudoirs  where  pleasures 
and  dangers  take  their  rise? 

The  poor  magistrate  was  in  despair.  By  the  tone 
of  approbation  with  which  he  echoed  the  praises  which 
his  wife  was  bestowing  upon  herself  she  perceived  that 
she  had  not  pleased  him ;  and  she  showed  such  grief 
at  her  failure  that  the  amorous  Granville  saw  another 
proof  of  love  for  him  in  her  excessive  pain,  instead  of 
seeing  what  it  really  was,  —  a  wound  to  her  self-love. 
A  young  girl  suddenly  taken  from  the  mediocrity  of 
provincial  ideas,  unaccustomed  to  the  coquetry  and 
elegance  of  Parisian  life,  could  she  have  done  better? 
The  young  husband  preferred  to  believe  that  the  choice 
of  his  wife  had  been  guided  by  her  tradesmen,  rather 
than  admit  to  himself  what  was  really  the  truth.  Less 
loving,  he  would  have  felt  that  the  dealers,  quick  to 
divine   the   thoughts  of   their   customers,   must   have 


246  A  Double  Life. 

blessed  heaven  for  sending  them  a  young  devote  de- 
void of  taste,  who  enabled  them  to  get  rid  of  things 
that  were  otherwise  unsalable.  As  it  was,  he  did  his 
best  to  console  his  wife. 

"Happiness,  my  dear  Angelique,  doesn't  depend  on 
furniture  that  is  more  or  less  elegant;  it  depends  on 
the  sweetness  and  kindness  and  love  of  a  woman." 

"It  is  my  duty  to  love  you;  and  no  duty  can  ever 
please  me  as  much,"  replied  Angelique,  softly. 

Nature  has  put  into  a  woman's  heart  so  great  a 
desire  to  please,  so  great  a  need  of  love,  that  even  in 
a  bigoted  young  girl  ideas  of  a  future  life  and  of 
working  for  salvation  must  succumb  in  some  degree 
to  the  first  joys  of  marriage.  So  that,  since  the  month 
of  April,  the  period  at  which  they  were  married,  until 
the  beginning  of  the  winter,  the  married  pair  had 
enjoyed  a  perfect  union.  Love  and  work  have  the 
virtue  of  making  a  man  indifferent  to  external  mat- 
ters. Obliged  to  spend  half  the  day  at  the  Palais  de 
Justice,  required  to  debate  the  solemn  interests  of  the 
life  or  fate  of  men,  Granville  was  less  likely  than 
other  husbands  to  see  or  know  what  went  on  within 
his  own  household.  If  on  Fridays  his  table  was 
served  with  a  maigre  dinner,  if  by  chance  he  asked 
for  a  dish  of  meat  without  obtaining  it,  his  wife, 
forbidden  by  the  Gospels  to  tell  a  lie,  contrived  by 
various  little  deceptions  (allowable  in  the  interests  of 
religion)  to  make  her  premeditated  purpose  appear 
like  an  act  of  forgetfulness  or  the  result  of  an  empty 
market;  she  excused  herself  often  by  throwing  the 
blame  upon  her  cook,  and  even  went  so  far  on  one 
occasion  as  to  scold  him  for  it.     At  this  period  young 


A  Double  Life.  247 

magistrates  were  not  in  the  habit  of  keeping  fasts, 
Ember-days,  and  vigils  as  they  do  in  our  time;  Gran- 
ville therefore  did  not  at  first  notice  the  periodicity  of 
his  maigre  meals,  which  his  wife,  moreover,  took  wily 
care  to  make  extremely  delicate  by  means  of  teal, 
wild-duck,  and  fish,  the  amphibious  flesh  of  which,  or 
the  careful  seasoning,  deceived  his  taste. 

Thus  the  young  magistrate  lived,  without  being 
aware  of  it,  in  an  orthodox  manner,  and  earned  his 
salvation  unknown  to  himself.  On  week-days  he  did 
not  know  if  his  wife  went  to  church  or  not.  On  Sun- 
days, by  a  very  natural  courtesy,  he  accompanied  her 
to  mass  as  if  to  reward  her  for  occasionally  sacri- 
ficing vespers  to  be  with  him;  he  therefore  did  not  at 
first  realize  the  rigidity  of  his  wife's  pious  habits. 
Theatres  being  intolerable  in  summer  on  account  of 
the  heat,  Granville  had  no  occasion  to  ask  his  wife 
to  go  there ;  the  serious  question  of  theatre-going  was, 
therefore,  not  mooted.  In  the  first  months  of  a  mar- 
riage to  which  a  man  has  been  led  by  the  beauty  of 
a  young  girl,  he  is  never  exacting  in  his  demands; 
youth  is  more  eager  than  discriminating.  How  could 
he  see  the  coldness,  the  reserve,  the  frigidity  of  a 
woman  to  whom  he  attributed  a  warmth  of  enthusiasm 
equal  to  his  own?  It  is  necessary  to  reach  a  certain 
conjugal  tranquillity  before  perceiving  that  a  true 
devote  accepts  a  man's  love  with  her  arms  crossed. 
Granville,  thus  in  the  dark,  regarded  himself  as  suffi- 
ciently happy  until  a  fatal  event  came  to  influence  the 
future  of  his  marriage. 

In  the  month  of  September,  1808,  the  canon  of  the 
cathedral  at  Bayeux,  who  had  formerly  directed  the 


248  A  Double  Life. 

consciences  of  Madame  Bonterns  and  her  daughter 
came  to  Paris,  led  by  an  ambition  to  obtain  a  post 
in  one  of  the  great  churches,  no  doubt  considering  it 
as  the  stepping-stone  to  a  bishopric.  In  recovering 
his  former  power  over  his  lamb  he  shuddered,  as  he 
said,  to  find  her  already  so  changed  by  the  air  of 
Paris ;  and  he  set  himself  to  the  work  of  drawing  her 
back  to  his  chilly  fold.  Frightened  by  the  remon- 
strances of  the  ex-canon,  —  a  man  about  thirty- 
eight  years  old,  who  brought  into  the  midst  of  the 
enlightened  and  tolerant  clergy  of  Paris  the  harsh- 
ness of  provincial  Catholicism,  with  its  inflexible  big- 
otry, whose  manifold  exactions  are  so  many  shackles 
to  timid  souls,  —  Madame  de  Granville  repented  of 
her  sins  and  returned  to  her  Jansenism. 

It  would  be  wearisome  to  describe,  step  by  step,  the 
incidents  which  led  insensibly  to  unhappiness  within 
the  bosom  of  the  Granville  household;  it  will  perhaps 
suffice  to  relate  the  principal  facts  without  being  scru- 
pulous to  give  them  their  proper  order  and  sequence. 
The  first  misunderstanding  between  the  young  couple 
was,  however,  sufficiently  striking  to  be  carefully 
related  here. 

When  Granville  wished  to  take  his  wife  into  society 
she  never  refused  any  staid  receptions,  or  dinners, 
concerts,  and  assemblies  at  the  houses  of  magistrates 
ranking  above  her  husband  in  the  judicial  hierarchy ; 
but  she  contrived,  for  a  long  time,  under  pretext  of  a 
headache  or  other  illness,  to  avoid  a  ball.  Oue  day 
Granville,  impatient  at  last  with  these  wilful  excuses, 
suppressed  the  written  notice  of  a  ball  at  the  house  of 
a  councillor  of  State,  and  deceived  his  wife  by  a  ver- 


A  Double  Life.  249 

bal  invitation.  When  the  evening  came  her  health 
was  not  in  question,  and  he  took  her,  for  the  first  time, 
to  a  really  magnificent  fete. 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  after  their  return,  observing 
her  depressed  air,  which  annoyed  him,  "your  position 
as  my  wife,  the  rank  to  which  you  are  entitled  in 
society,  and  the  fortune  you  enjoy,  impose  obligations 
upon  you  which  you  cannot  escape.  You  ought  to  go 
with  me  into  society,  especially  to  large  balls,  and 
appear  there  in  a  suitable  manner." 

"But,  my  dear  friend,  what  was  there  so  unsuitable 
in  my  dress?  " 

"I  did  not  refer  to  your  dress,  my  dear,  but  to  your 
manner.  When  a  young  man  came  up  to  speak  to 
you,  you  grew  so  distant  that  a  foolish  observer  might 
have  thought  that  you  feared  for  your  virtue.  You 
seemed  to  think  that  a  smile  would  compromise  you; 
you  really  appeared  to  be  asking  God  to  forgive  the 
sins  of  the  persons  who  surrounded  you.  The  world, 
my  dear  angel,  is  not  a  convent.  As  you  yourself 
have  mentioned  dress,  I  will  also  say  that  it  is  a  duty 
in  your  position  to  follow  the  fashions  and  usages  of 
society." 

"Do  you  wish  me  to  show  my  shape  like  those 
brazen  women  I  saw  last  night,  who  wore  their  gowns 
so  low  that  any  one  could  plunge  his  immodest  eyes  on 
their  bare  shoulders  and  —  " 

"There  's  a  difference,  my  dear,  between  uncovering 
the  whole  bust  and  giving  grace  and  charm  to  the 
figure,"  said  the  husband,  interrupting  the  wife. 
"You  wore  three  rows  of  tulle  ruches  swathing  your 
neck  up  to  your  chin.     You  really  seem  to  have  begged 


250  A  Double  Life. 

your  dressmaker  to  destroy  the  grace  of  your  shoulders 
and  the  outline  of  your  bust  with  as  much  care  as  a 
coquettish  woman  puts  into  the  choice  of  becoming 
garments.  Your  neck  was  buried  under  such  innu- 
merable pleats  and  folds  that  people  laughed  last  night 
at  your  affected  modesty.  You  would  be  horrified  if 
I  repeated  to  you  the  unpleasant  things  that  were  said 
of  you." 

"Those  to  whom  such  obscenities  are  pleasing  will 
not  be  burdened  by  the  weight  of  my  sins,"  replied 
the  young  wife,  dryly. 

"You  did  not  dance,"  said  Granville. 

"I  shall  never  dance,"  she  replied. 

"But  if  I  say  that  you  ought  to  dance?  "  said  the 
magistrate,  hastily.  "Yes,  you  ought  to  follow  the 
fashions,  wear  flowers  in  your  hair,  and  diamonds. 
Reflect,  my  dear,  that  rich  people,  and  we  are  rich, 
are  bound  to  maintain  the  luxury  of  a  State.  Is  n't  it 
better  to  keep  the  manufactories  busy  and  prosperous 
than  spend  your  money  in  alms,  through  the  clergy?  " 

"You  talk  like  a  politician,"  said  Angelique. 

"And  you  like  a  churchman,"  he  replied,  sharply. 

The  discussion  now  became  very  bitter.  Madame 
de  Granville  put  into  her  answers,  which  were  very 
gentle,  and  uttered  in  tones  as  clear  as  the  tinkling  of 
a  bell,  a  stolid  obstinacy  which  betrayed  the  sacerdotal 
influence.  She  claimed  the  rights  which  Granville's 
promise  secured  to  her,  and  told  him  that  her  con- 
fessor had  expressly  forbidden  her  to  go  to  balls.  In 
reply  Granville  endeavored  to  prove  to  her  that  the 
priest  was  exceeding  the  rights  of  his  office  according 
to  the  regulations  of  the  Church  itself. 


A  Double  Life.  251 

This  odious  dispute  was  renewed  with  far  more 
violence  and  acrimony  on  both  sides  when  Granville 
wished  his  wife  to  accompany  him  to  the  theatre. 
Finally  the  husband,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  breaking 
down  the  pernicious  influence  exercised  by  the  con- 
fessor, brought  the  quarrel  to  such  a  pitch  that  Madame 
de  Granville,  driven  to  bay,  wrote  to  the  court  of 
Rome  to  inquire  whether  a  woman  could,  without 
losing  her  salvation,  wear  a  low  dress  and  go  to  the 
theatre  to  please  her  husband.  An  answer  was 
promptly  returned  by  the  venerable  Pius  VII. ,  who 
strongly  condemned  the  wife's  resistance  and  blamed 
the  confessor.  This  letter,  a  true  conjugal  catechism, 
seemed  as  if  it  were  dictated  by  the  tender  voice  of 
Fenelon,  whose  grace  and  sweetness  emanated  from 
it.  "A  wife,"  it  said,  "is  in  her  right  place  wherever 
her  husband  takes  her."  "If  she  commits  a  sin  by 
his  order,  it  is  not  she  who  will  answer  for  that 
sin."  These  two  passages  in  the  pope's  homily  made 
Madame  de  Granville  and  her  confessor  accuse  the 
pontiff  of  irreligion. 

Before  the  letter  arrived,  Granville  had  discovered 
the  strict  observance  of  the  ecclesiastical  laws  of  fast- 
ing, which  his  wife  now  imposed  upon  him  more 
openly;  and  he  gave  orders  to  the  servants  that  he 
himself  was  to  be  served  with  meat  daily.  Notwith- 
standing the  extreme  displeasure  which  this  order 
caused  his.  wife,  Granville,  to  whom  feast  or  fast 
was  of  little  real  consequence,  maintained  it  with 
virile  firmness.  The  feeblest  of  thinking  creatures  is 
wounded  in  his  inmost  being  when  another  will  than 
his  own  imposes  secretly  a  thing  he  would  have  done 


252  A  Double  Life. 

of  his  own  monition  willingly.  Of  all  tyrannies,  the 
most  odious  is  that  which  deprives  the  soul  of  the 
merit  of  its  actions  and  its  thoughts ;  the  mind  is  made 
to  abdicate  without  having  reigned.  The  sweetest 
word  to  say,  the  tenderest  feeling  to  express,  die  on 
our  lips  when  we  think  they  are  compulsory. 

Before  long  the  young  magistrate  gave  up  receiving 
his  friends  either  at  dinner  or  in  the  evening;  the 
house  soon  seemed  to  be  one  of  mourning.  A  house- 
hold which  has  a  devote  for  its  mistress  assumes  a 
peculiar  aspect.  The  servants  under  the  eye  of  such  a 
woman  are  chosen  from  among  those  self-called  pious 
persons  who  have  a  physiognomy  of  their  own.  Just 
as  a  jovial  youth  entering  the  gendarmerie  acquires 
the  gendarme  face,  so  domestic  servants  who  are 
trained  to  the  practice  of  devotion  contract  a  uniform 
and  peculiar  countenance,  a  habit  of  lowering  the  eyes, 
of  maintaining  an  attitude  of  compunction,  a  livery  of 
cant,  in  short,  which  humbugs  wear  marvellously  well. 

Besides  this,  devotes  form  among  themselves  a 
species  of  republic;  they  all  know  one  another;  their 
servants,  whom  they  recommend  within  their  own 
circle,  are  like  a  race  apart,  preserved  by  them  as 
horse-breeders  admit  to  their  stables  only  such  animals 
as  possess  a  clear  pedigree.  The  more  a  so-called 
unbeliever  examines  the  home  of  a  devote,  the  more 
he  finds  that  everything  about  it  is  stamped  with  an 
indescribable  unpleasantness.  He  finds  there  the 
symptoms  of  avarice  and  mystery  that  characterize 
the  house  of  a  usurer;  also  that  perfumed  dampness  of 
incense  which  makes  the  chilly  atmosphere  of  chapels. 
The  paltry  rigor,  the  poverty  of  ideas  which  appear 


A  Double  Life.  253 

in  all  things  can  only  be  expressed  by  the  one  word 
bigotry.  In  these  repellent,  implacable  houses  bigotry 
is  painted  on  the  walls,  the  furniture,  in  the  pictures,- 
the  engravings;  the  talk  is  bigoted,  the  silence  is 
bigoted,  the  faces  are  bigoted.  The  transformation 
of  things  and  men  into  bigotry  is  an  inexplicable 
mystery;  but  the  fact  exists.  Every  one  must  have 
observed  that  bigots  do  not  walk,  or  sit  down,  or 
speak,  as  walk,  sit,  and  speak  the  rest  of  the  world: 
in  their  presence  others  are  embarrassed;  no  one 
laughs;  all  things  are  rigid,  stiff,  uniform,  from  the 
cap  of  the  mistress  of  the  house  to  her  pincushion 
with  its  even  rows  of  pins;  glances  are  not  open  or 
frank;  the  servants  seem  shadows;  the  lady  of  the 
house  sits  enthroned  on  ice. 

One  morning  poor  Granville  became  aware,  with 
pain  and  sadness,  of  the  symptoms  of  bigotry  now 
established  in  his  home.  We  find  in  the  world  certain 
social  spheres  where  the  same  effects  exist,  though 
produced  by  other  causes.  Ennui  draws  around  these 
unhappy  homes  a  circlet  of  iron  which  encloses  the 
horrors  of  the  desert  and  the  infinitude  of  the  void. 
A  household  is  then,  not  a  tomb,  but  something  worse, 
—  a  convent. 

In  the  centre  of  this  glacial  sphere  the  magistrate 
now  contemplated  his  wife  without  passion  or  illu- 
sion; he  remarked  with  keen  regret  the  narrowness  of 
her  ideas,  betrayed  externally  by  the  way  the  hair 
grew  on  the  low  forehead  which  was  hollow  beneath 
the  temples.  He  saw  in  the  perfect  regularity  of  her 
features  something,  it  is  hard  to  say  what,  of  fixed- 
ness  and  rigidity  which   made  him  almost   hate  the 


254  A  Double  Life. 

specious  gentleness  by  which  he  had  been  won.  He 
felt  that  the  day  might  come  when  those  thin  lips 
would  say  to  him  in  presence  of  some  misfortune: 
"It  is  sent  for  your  good,  my  friend." 

Madame  de  Granville's  face  was  gradually  assuming 
a  wan  complexion  and  a  stern  expression  which  killed 
all  joy  in  those  who  came  in  contact  with  her.  Was 
this  change  brought  about  by  the  ascetic  habits  of  a 
piety  which  is  no  more  true  piety  than  avarice  is 
economy ;  or  was  it  produced  by  the  dryness  natural 
to  a  bigoted  soul?  It  would  be  difficult  to  say;  beauty 
without  passion  is  perhaps  an  imposture.  The  imper- 
turbable smile  which  this  young  woman  trained  upon 
her  face  as  she  looked  at  her  husband,  seemed  to  be 
a  sort  of  jesuitized  formula  of  happiness  by  which  she 
believed  she  satisfied  the  demands  of  marriage.  Her 
charity  wounded,  her  passionless  beauty  seemed  a 
monstrosity  to  those  who  observed  her;  the  softest  of 
her  speeches  made  them  impatient,  for  she  was  not 
obeying  a  feeling,  but  a  sense  of  duty. 

There  are  certain  defects  which,  in  a  woman,  will 
often  yield  to  lessons  of  experience  or  to  the  influ- 
ence of  a  husband,  but  nothing  can  ever  overcome  the 
tyranny  of  false  religious  ideas.  An  eternity  of  hap- 
piness to  win,  put  into  the  scales  against  earthly 
pleasure,  will  always  triumph,  and  make  all  things 
bearable.  May  not  this  be  called  deified  egotism,  the 
/  beyond  the  grave  ?  Even  the  pope  was  condemned 
before  the  judgment-seat  of  the  canon  and  the  young 
devote.  The  impossibility  of  being  wrong  is  a  feeling 
that  ends  by  superseding  all  others  in  these  despotic 
souls. 


A  Double  Life.  255 

Thus,  for  some  time  past,  an  underground  struggle 
had  been  going  on  between  the  opposing  ideas  of  hus- 
band and  wife,  but  Granville  was  now  weary  of  a 
battle  which  he  saw  would  never  cease.  What  hus- 
band could  bear  incessantly  before  him  the  sight  of 
a  face  hypocritically  affectionate,  and  the  annoyance 
of  categorical  remonstrances  opposed  to  his  slightest 
will  ?  How  treat  a  woman  who  uses  your  passion  to 
protect  her  own  want  of  feeling,  who  seems  resolved 
to  remain  inexorably  gentle,  and  prepares  with  delight 
to  play  the  part  of  victim,  regarding  her  husband  as 
an  instrument  of  God,  — a  scourge,  whose  flagellations 
are  to  spare  her  those  of  purgatory  ?  But  what  descrip- 
tion can  give  an  idea  of  these  women  who  make  virtue 
odious  by  distorting  the  precepts  of  a  religion  which 
Saint  John  summed  up  in  one,  namely:  "Love  one 
another?  " 

Thus,  in  that  domestic  existence  which  needs  so 
much  expansion,  Granville's  life  was  now  companion- 
less.  Nothing  in  his  home  was  sympathetic  to  him. 
The  large  crucifix  placed  between  his  wife's  bed  and 
his  own  was  like  a  symbol  of  his  destiny.  Did  it  not 
represent  the  killing  of  a  divine  thing,  —  the  death  of 
a  God-man  in  all  the  beauty  of  life  and  youth?  The 
ivory  of  that  cross  was  less  cold  than  Angelique  as 
she  sacrificed  her  husband  in  the  name  of  virtue.  The 
misery  of  the  young  magistrate  became  intense;  he 
went  alone  into  the  world,  and  to  theatres;  his  wife 
saw  only  duties,  and  pleasures  to  be  shunned  in  mar- 
riage, but  what  could  he  say?  he  could  not  even  com- 
plain. He  possessed  a  young  and  pretty  wife,  attached 
to  her  duties,  virtuous,  —  the  model,  in  fact,  of  all  the 


256  A  Double  Life. 

virtues.  She  brought  him  a  child  every  year;  nursed 
her  children,  and  trained  them  up  to  the  highest  prin- 
ciples. Her  charitable  soul  was  thought  angelic.  The 
elderly  women  who  composed  the  society  in  which  she 
lived  (for  in  those  days  young  women  had  not  as  yet 
taken  it  into  their  heads  to  make  a  fashion  of  devo- 
tion) admired  Madame  de  Granville's  zealous  piety, 
and  regarded  her,  if  not  as  a  virgin,  at  least  as  a 
martyr. 

Insensibly,  Granville,  overwhelmed  with  toil,  de- 
prived of  pleasures,  weary  of  society  where  he  wan- 
dered alone,  fell,  by  the  time  he  was  thirty-two,  into 
a  condition  of  painful  apathy.  Life  became  odious 
to  him.  Having  too  high  a  sense  of  his  obligations 
to  allow  himself  to  fall  into  irregular  ways,  he  en- 
deavored to  stupefy  himself  by  toil,  and  began  a  great 
work  on  a  legal  subject.  But  he  did  not  long  enjoy 
that  form  of  monastic  peace  on  which  he  had  counted. 

When  the  pious  Angelique  saw  that  he  deserted 
society  and  worked  at  home  with  a  sort  of  regularity, 
she  thought  the  time  had  come  to  convert  him.  To 
feel  that  her  husband's  views  were  not  Christian  was 
a  genuine  grief  to  her;  she  often  wept  at  the  thought 
that  if  he  died  suddenly  he  would  perish  in  his  sin, 
and  she  could  then  have  no  hope  of  saving  him  from 
the  flames  of  eternal  punishment.  Henceforth  Gran- 
ville became  a  target  for  the  petty  thrusts,  the  paltry 
arguments,  the  narrow  views  by  which  his  wife,  who 
thought  she  had  won  a  first  victory  by  withdrawing 
him  from  the  world,  endeavored  to  obtain  a  second  by 
bringing  him  into  the  pale  of  the  Church. 

This  was  the  last  drop  to  his  cup  of  misery.     What 


A  Double  Life.  257 

could  be  more  intolerable  than  a  dumb  struggle  in 
which  the  obstinacy  of  a  narrow  mind  endeavored  to 
subdue  the  intelligence  of  the  lawyer;  what  more  hor- 
rible to  bear  than  this  acrid  nagging  to  which  a  gen- 
erous nature  would  far  prefer  an  open  stab?  Granville 
deserted  his  house,  where  all  was  now  unbearable  to 
him.  His  children,  subjected  to  the  cold  despotism 
of  their  mother,  were  not  allowed  to  accompany  him 
to  the  theatre ;  he  was  literally  unable  to  give  them  a 
single  pleasure  without  drawing  down  upon  them  a 
rebuke  from  his  wife.  This  man,  naturally  loving, 
was  driven  into  a  condition  of  indifference,  of  selfish 
egotism,  which  to  him  was  worse  than  death. 

He  saved  his  sons  as  soon  as  possible  from  the  hell 
of  this  life  by  sending  them  to  school  at  an  early  age, 
and  by  maintaining  firmly  his  right  to  manage  them. 
He  did  not  interfere,  or  interfered  very  rarely,  between 
the  mother  and  her  daughters,  though  he  resolved  to 
marry  the  latter  as  soon  as  they  attained  to  a  mar- 
riageable age.  If  he  had  taken  a  more  decided  and 
violent  course  nothing  would  have  justified  it.  His 
wife,  supported  by  the  formidable  circle  of  pious 
dowagers  among  whom  she  lived,  could  have  shown 
his  injustice  to  all  the  world.  Granville  had  literally 
no  other  resource  than  a  life  of  isolation.  Crushed 
under  the  tyranny  of  these  misfortunes,  his  very  feat- 
ures, withered  and  hardened  by  grief  and  toil,  became 
displeasing  to  himself;  he  shrank  from  all  intercourse 
with  others,  especially  with  women  of  society,  from 
whom  he  despaired  of  gaining  any  comfort. 

The  didactic  history  of  this  sad  household  during 
the   fifteen    years    between    1806    and   1821   offers   no 

17 


258  A  Double  Life. 

scene  that  is  worthy  of  being  related.  Madame  de 
Granville  remained  precisely  the  same  woman  after 
she  had  lost  her  husband's  heart  as  she  was  in  the 
days  when  she  called  herself  happy.  She  made  no- 
venas,  praying  God  and  the  saints  to  enlighten  her 
mind  as  to  the  faults  by  which  she  displeased  her 
husband,  and  to  show  her  the  means  of  bringing  back 
that  erring  sheep  into  the  fold.  But  the  more  fervent 
her  prayers,  the  less  her  husband  appeared  in  his 
home.  For  five  years  past  Granville,  now  attorney- 
general  under  the  Restoration,  had  taken  up  his  abode 
on  the  ground-floor  of  his  house  to  avoid  the  necessity 
of  living  with  his  wife.  Every  morning  a  scene  took 
place  which  (if  we  may  believe  the  gossip  of  society) 
occurs  in  the  bosom  of  many  a  family,  —  produced  by 
incompatibility  of  temper,  or  by  mental  and  physical 
diseases,  or  by  antagonisms  which  bring  the  results 
related  in  this  history  to  many  a  marriage.  Every 
morning  at  eight  o'clock  the  countess's  waiting- 
woman,  looking  much  like  a  nun,  rang  at  the  door  of 
the  count's  apartment.  Shown  into  the  salon  adjoin- 
ing the  magistrate's  study,  she  gave  to  the  valet,  and 
always  in  the  same  tone,  this  stereotyped  message :  — 

"Madame  begs  to  know  if  Monsieur  le  comte  has 
passed  a  good  night,  and  whether  she  shall  have  the 
pleasure  of  breakfasting  with  him." 

"Monsieur,"  the  valet  would  reply,  after  conveying 
the  message  to  his  master,  "presents  his  regards  to 
Madame  la  comtesse  and  begs  her  to  excuse  him;  an 
important  affair  obliges  him  to  go  to  the  Palais  at 
once." 

A  few  moments  later  the  maid  would  reappear  to 


A  Double  Life.  259 

ask  in  Madame' s  name  if  she  should  have  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  Monsieur  le  comte  before  he  went  out. 

"He  has  gone  already,"  the  valet  would  reply, 
though  the  count's  carriage  might  be  still  in  the  court- 
yard. 

This  ambassadorial  dialogue  was  a  daily  ceremony. 
Granville' 3  valet,  who,  being  a  favorite  with  his  mas- 
ter, was  the  cause  of  more  than  one  quarrel  in  the 
household  on  account  of  his  irreligion  and  moral 
laxity,  would  sometimes  take  the  message  as  a  matter 
of  form  into  the  study  when  the  count  was  not  there, 
bringing  back  the  accustomed  answer.  The  afflicted 
wife  would  often  watch  for  her  husband's  return  and 
go  down  to  the  vestibule  and  place  herself  in  his  way 
to  awaken  his  remorse.  This  petty  teasing,  charac- 
teristic of  monastic  life,  was  a  strong  feature  in  the 
nature  of  this  woman,  who,  though  she  was  only  thirty- 
five,  now  looked  to  be  over  forty. 

The  presidency  of  a  royal  court  in  the  provinces 
was  offered  to  the  Comte  de  Granville,  who  stood  well 
in  favor  with  the  King,  but  he  begged  the  ministry 
to  allow  him  to  remain  in  Paris.  This  refusal,  the 
reasons  for  which  were  known  only  to  the  Keeper  of 
the  Seals,  suggested  various  strange  conjectures  among 
the  intimates  of  the  countess,  and  more  especially  to 
her  confessor.  Granville,  the  possessor  of  a  hun- 
dred thousand  francs  a  year,  belonged  to  one  of  the 
highest  families  in  Normandy ;  his  appointment  to  a 
royal  court  was  a  first  step  to  the  peerage.  Why, 
then,  such  a  lack  of  ambition  ?  Why  had  he  given  up 
his  great  work  on  Law?  Whence  this  unnatural  life 
which  had  made  him  for  the  last  five  years  almost  a 


260  A  Double  Life. 

stranger  to  his  home,  his  duties,  and  to  all  that  ought 
to  be  dear  to  him?  The  countess's  confessor,  who 
relied  on  the  support  of  the  families  where  he  ruled  to 
advance  him  to  a  bishopric,  had  met  with  disappoint- 
ment from  Granville,  who  refused  him  his  influence; 
and  he  now  aspersed  him  with  suppositions. 

"If  Monsieur  le  comte,"  he  said,  "was  reluctant 
to  live  in  the  provinces,  it  was  probably  because  he 
feared  the  necessity  of  having  to  lead  a  moral  life. 
The  position  of  a  chief-justice  would  force  him  to  live 
with  his  wife  and  abandon  all  illicit  connections.  A 
woman  as  pure  as  the  Comtesse  de  Granville  could 
never  overlook  the  fact,  if  it  came  to  her  knowledge, 
of  her  husband's  irregularities. 

Angelique's  dowager  friends  did  not  leave  her  in 
ignorance  of  these  remarks,  which,  alas!  were  not 
groundless ;  the  effect  upon  her  was  that  of  a  thunder- 
bolt. 

Without  any  just  ideas  of  life  or  of  society,  igno- 
rant of  love  and  its  madness,  Madame  de  Granville 
was  so  far  from  supposing  that  marriage  could  bring 
other  troubles  than  those  which  alienated  her  from  her 
husband,  that  she  thought  him  incapable  of  the  faults 
which  are  the  crimes  of  married  life.  When  the  count 
no  longer  sought  her  society  and  lived  apart,  she 
imagined  that  the  calmness  of  such  a  life  was  that  of 
nature.  She  had  given  him  all  the  affection  her  heart 
was  capable  of  giving  to  a  man,  and  these  conjectures 
of  her  confessor  completely  destroyed  all  the  illusions 
in  which  she  had  lived  up  to  that  moment.  At  first, 
therefore,  she  defended  her  husband;  although,  at  the 
same  time,  she  was  unable  to  put  away  the  suspicions 


A  Double  Life.  261 

so  cleverly  introduced  into  her  mind.  This  struggle 
caused  such  ravages  in  her  feeble  brain  that  before  long 
her  health  gave  way  and  she  fell  a  victim  to  slow  fever. 

These  events  took  place  during  the  Lent  of  1822, 
but  her  piety  would  not  relax  its  austerities,  and  she 
finally  reached  a  state  of  exhaustion  in  which  her  very 
life  seemed  threatened.  Granville's  indifference  to 
her  condition  wounded  her  deeply.  His  attentions 
were  more  like  those  that  a  nephew  compels  himself  to 
pay  to  an  uncle.  Though  the  countess  tried  to  greet 
her  husband  with  pleasant  words,  and  renounced  for 
the  time  being  her  system  of  nagging  remonstrance, 
the  sourness  of  the  devote  was  still  perceptible,  and 
often  destroyed  by  a  few  words  the  work  of  days. 

Toward  the  end  of  May,  the  balmy  breath  of  spring 
and  a  more  nourishing  diet  than  Lent  allowed  brought 
back  some  strength  to  Madame  de  Granville.  One 
morning,  on  her  return  from  mass,  she  seated  herself 
on  a  stone  bench  in  her  little  garden,  where  the  warm 
caresses  of  the  sunshine  recalled  to  her  the  pleasant 
early  days  of  her  marriage.  Her  mind  took  in  at  a 
glance  the  whole  of  her  married  life,  striving  to  see 
in  what  possible  way  she  could  have  failed  in  her 
duty  as  wife  and  mother.  While  she  sat  there  the 
Abbe  Fontanon  appeared,  in  a  state  of  very  evident 
agitation. 

"Has  anything  happened  to  distress  you,  father?" 
she  asked,  with  filial  solicitude. 

"Ah!  I  would  that  all  the  misfortunes  which  the 
hand  of  God  is  laying  heavily  upon  you,  were  laid 
on  me,"  said  the  Norman  priest.  "But,  my  worthy 
friend,  these  are  trials  to  which  you  must  submit." 


262  A  Double  Life. 

"Can  any  chastisement  be  greater  than  that  to  which 
the  Divine  Providence  has  already  subjected  me,  using 
my  husband  as  the  instrument  of  its  wrath?  " 

"  Prepare  yourself,  my  daughter,  for  greater  sorrow 
than  any  you  have  hitherto  undergone." 

"Then  I  thank  God  that  he  deigns  to  make  use  of 
you  to  lay  his  will  upon  me,"  said  the  countess,  "fol- 
lowing the  vials  of  his  wrath  with  the  treasures  of  his 
mercy,  even  as  he  showed  to  Hagar  in  the  desert  a 
living  spring." 

"He  allots  your  penalties  to  the  weight  of  your  sins 
and  the  measure  of  your  resignation,"  said  the  priest. 

"Speak,  father;  I  am  ready  to  hear  all;"  so  say- 
ing, the  countess  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven ;  then  she 
said  again,  "Speak,  Monsieur  Fontanon." 

"For  the  last  seven  years  Monsieur  de  Granville 
has  committed  the  crime  of  adultery  with  a  concubine 
by  whom  he  has  two  children.  He  has  spent  upon 
this  illicit  household  more  than  five  hundred  thousand 
francs,  which  ought  to  have  belonged  to  his  legitimate 
family." 

"I  must  see  that  with  my  own  eyes  before  I  believe 
it,"  said  the  countess. 

"No,  be  very  careful  to  avoid  that,"  said  the 
priest.  "My  daughter,  it  is  your  duty  to  forgive,  and 
to  wait,  in  prayer,  till  God  sees  fit  to  change  your 
husband's  heart.  You  must  not  employ  such  human 
means  against  him." 

The  long  conversation  which  followed  produced  a 
violent  change  in  the  whole  manner  and  appearance 
of  the  countess.  She  dismissed  the  confessor  at  last, 
and  appeared  with  a  flushed  face  before  her  servants, 


A  Double  Life.  263 

who  were  frightened  by  an  activity  which  seemed 
almost  insane.  She  ordered  her  carriage,  then  she 
countermanded  it,  ordered  it  again,  and  changed  her 
mind  a  score  of  times  within  an  hour.  Finally,  how- 
ever, she  appeared  to  come  to  a  decisive  resolution, 
and  started  from  home  at  three  o'clock,  leaving  her 
household  amazed  at  her  sudden  action. 

"Will  your  master  be  home  to  dinner?  "  she  asked 
the  valet  (to  whom  she  usually  never  spoke)  as  she 
left  the  house. 

"No,  madame." 

"Did  he  go  to  the  Palais  this  morning?  " 

"Yes,  madame." 

"To-day  is  Monday?" 

"Yes,  madame." 

"Is  the  Palais  open  on  Mondays  now?  " 

"The  devil  take  her!  "  thought  the  valet  as  the 
countess  got  into  her  carriage  and  gave  the  order: 
"Rue  Taitbout." 

Caroline  de  Belief euille  was  weeping;  beside  her 
was  Roger,  holding  one  of  her  hands  in  both  of  his. 
He  was  silent,  looking  alternately  at  little  Charles, 
who  could  not  understand  his  mother's  grief,  at  the 
cradle  where  the  baby  Eugenie  was  sleeping,  and  then 
at  the  face  of  his  friend,  where  the  tears  were  falling 
like  rain  on  a  sunshiny  day. 

'Yes,  my  angel,"  said  Roger,  after  a  long  silence, 
"that  is  the  truth;  I  am  married.  But  some  day,  I 
hope,  I  may  have  but  one  life,  one  home.  My  wife 
is  in  wretched  health ;  I  do  not  wish  her  death ;  but  if 
it  pleases  God  to  take  her,  I  think  she  will  be  happier 


264  A  Double  Life. 

in  paradise  than  she  has  been  in  a  world  the  pains  and 
pleasures  of  which  have  never  touched  her." 

"I  hate  that  woman!  How  could  she  make  you  so 
unhappy  ?  And  yet  it  is  to  that  misfortune  that  I  owe 
my  happiness." 

Her  tears  ceased  suddenly. 

"Caroline,  let  us  hope  on,"  cried  Roger,  with  a  kiss. 
"  Never  mind  what  the  abbe  said  to  you.  Though  that 
confessor  is  a  dangerous  man  on  account  of  his  influ- 
ence in  the  Church,  if  he  attempts  to  disturb  our 
relation  I  shall  —  " 

"What?" 

"Take  you  to  Italy;  I  will  flee  —  " 

A  cry  coming  from  the  next  room  made  them  start; 
they  both  rushed  there,  and  found  Madame  de  Gran- 
ville fainting  on  the  floor.  When  she  recovered  her 
senses  she  gave  a  deep  sigh  on  seeing  herself  between 
her  husband  and  her  rival,  whom  she  pushed  aside 
with  an  involuntary  gesture  of  contempt. 

Caroline  rose  to  go. 

"Stay  where  you  are,"  said  the  count.  "This  is 
your  house." 

Then  he  took  his  fainting  wife  in  his  arms  and  car- 
ried her  to  her  carriage,  into  which  he  followed  her. 

"What  has  made  you  desire  my  death?  Why  should 
you  wish  to  flee  me?"  she  asked,  in  a  weak  voice, 
looking  at  her  husband  with  as  much  indignation  as 
grief.  "Was  I  not  young?  Did  you  not  think  me 
beautiful?  What  blame  can  you  lay  at  my  door? 
Did  I  ever  deceive  you  'i  Have  I  not  been  a  good  and 
virtuous  wife  to  you?  My  heart  has  held  no  image 
but  yours;  my   ears   have   listened   to   no  voice  but 


A  Double  Life.  265 

yours.     What  duty  did  I  fail  to  perform?     Have  I 
ever  refused  you  anything  ?  " 

"Yes;  happiness,"  replied  the  count,  in  a  firm  voice. 
"There  are  two  ways  of  serving  God.  Some  Chris- 
tians imagine  that  by  entering  a  church  and  saying  a 
Pater  Noster,  by  hearing  mass  at  stated  times  and 
abstaining  from  sinful  acts  they  must  win  heaven; 
such  persons  go  to  hell;  they  have  never  loved  God 
for  God's  sake;  they  do  not  worship  him  as  he  seeks 
to  be  worshipped;  they  have  made  him  no  sacrifice. 
Though  gentle  apparently,  they  are  harsh  to  their 
neighbor;  they  see  the  law,  the  letter,  but  not  the 
spirit.  That  is  how  you  have  acted  with  your  earthly 
husband.  You  have  sacrificed  my  happiness  to  your 
salvation.  You  were  absorbed  in  the  contemplation 
of  that  when  I  came  to  you  with  eager  heart ;  you  wept 
and  fasted  when  you  might  have  eased  and  brightened 
my  toil ;  you  have  never  satisfied  one  pleasurable  desire 
of  my  life." 

"But  if  those  desires  were  criminal,"  cried  the 
countess,  hotly,  "was  I  to  lose  my  soul  to  please  you?  " 

"That  sacrifice  a  more  loving  woman  has  had  the 
courage  to  make,"  replied  the  count,  coldly. 

"Oh,  God!"  she  said,  weeping.  "Thou  hearest 
him!  Was  he  worthy  of  the  prayers  and  penances  in 
which  I  have  spent  my  life  to  redeem  his  sins  and  my 
own  ?     Of  what  good  is  virtue  ?  " 

"To  win  heaven,  my  dear;  you  could  not  be  the 
bride  of  heaven  and  of  man  both;  it  was  bigamy. 
You  should  have  chosen  between  a  husband  and  a  con- 
vent. Instead  of  that,  for  the  sake  of  your  future 
salvation,   you   have   robbed  your  soul  and  mine  of 


266  A  Double  Life 

love,  of  all  the  devotion  God  bestows  upon  a  woman ; 
of  the  earthly  emotions  you  have  kept  but  one  —  and 
that  is  hatred." 

"Have  I  not  loved  you?  " 

"No." 

"What,  then,  is  love?"  she  said,  involuntarily. 

"Love,  my  dear?"  said  Granville,  with  a  sort  of 
ironical  surprise.  "You  are  not  in  a  condition  to 
understand  it.  The  sky  of  Normandy  is  never  that 
of  Spain.  Perhaps  the  question  of  climate  is  really 
one  of  the  secrets  of  unhappiness.  Love  is  a  mutual 
yielding  to  each  other's  likes  and  dislikes  and 
dividing  them.  Love  finds  pleasure  in  pain,  in  sacri- 
ficing to  another  the  opinion  of  the  world,  self-love, 
self-interest,  religion  even,  — regarding  all  such  offer- 
ings as  grains  of  incense  burned  on  the  altar  of  an 
idol;  that  is  love." 

"The  love  of  a  ballet-girl,"  said  the  countess,  hor- 
rified; "such  passions  cannot  last;  they  leave  noth- 
ing behind  them  but  cinders  and  ashes,  remorse  and 
despair.  A  wife  should  give  her  husband,  as  I  think, 
true  friendship,  an  equable  warmth,  an  —  " 

"You  talk  of  warmth  as  negroes  talk  of  ice,"  inter- 
rupted the  count,  with  a  sardonic  smile.  "  Remember 
that  the  humblest  wild-flower  is  more  to  us  than  a  rose 
with  thorns.  But,"  he  added,  "I  will  do  you  justice. 
You  have  so  firmly  maintained  the  line  of  conduct  pre- 
scribed by  law  that,  in  order  to  show  you  where  you 
have  failed  toward  me,  I  should  have  to  enter  upon 
certain  details  which  your  dignity  would  not  permit, 
and  say  certain  things  which  would  seem  to  you  the 
reverse  of  moral." 


A  Double  Life.  267 


a- 


Do  you  dare  to  speak  of  morality,  —  you  who  are 
leaving  the  house  of  a  mistress  where  you  have  squan- 
dered the  property  of  your  children  in  debauchery?" 
cried  the  countess. 

"Madame,  I  stop  you  there,"  said  the  count,  coolly, 
interrupting  his  wife.  "If  Mademoiselle  de  Belle- 
feuille  is  rich  it  is  not  at  my  expense.  My  uncle  was 
master  of  his  fortune;  he  had  many  heirs.  During 
his  lifetime,  and  solely  out  of  regard  for  a  young 
woman  whom  he  considered  in  the  light  of  a  niece, 
he  gave  her  the  estate  of  Belief euille." 

"  Such  conduct  is  worthy  of  a  Jacobin !  "  cried  the 
pious  Angelique. 

"You  forget  that  your  father  was  one  of  those  Jaco- 
bins whom  you,  a  woman,  condemn  with  so  little 
charity,"  said  the  count,  sternly.  "The  citizen  Bon- 
tems  was  signing  death-warrants  at  the  time  when  my 
uncle  was  rendering  great  services  to  France." 

Madame  de  Granville  made  no  reply.  But,  after  a 
moment's  silence,  the  recollection  of  what  she  had  just 
seen  awoke  the  jealousy  which  nothing  can  quench  in 
a  woman's  soul,  and  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  as  if 
speaking  to  herself:  — 

"  How  can  a  man  lose  his  soul  and  that  of  others  in 
this  way?  " 

"Ah!  madame,"  said  the  count,  weary  of  the  fruit- 
less conversation,  "perhaps  it  is  you  who  will  have  to 
answer  for  all  this." 

These  words  made  the  countess  tremble. 

"  But  you  will  no  doubt  be  excused  in  the  eyes  of 
that  indulgent  Judge  who  understands  our  faults,"  he 
added,  "  in  virtue  of  the  sincerity  with  which  you  have 


268  A  Double  Life. 

wrought  the  ruin  of  my  life.  I  do  not  hate  you;  I 
hate  those  who  have  distorted  your  heart  and  mind. 
You  have  prayed  for  me  doubtless  as  sincerely  as 
Mademoiselle  de  Bellefeuille  has  given  me  her  heart 
and  crowned  me  with  love.  You  should  have  been 
both  mistress  and  saint.  Do  me  the  justice  to 
acknowledge  that  I  have  not  been  either  wicked  or 
debauched.  My  morals  are  pure.  But  alas!  at  the 
end  of  seven  years'  wretchedness,  the  need  of  being 
happy  led  me,  almost  insensibly,  to  love  another 
woman,  and  to  create  for  myself  another  home  than 
mine.  Do  not  think  I  am  the  only  man  in  Paris  who 
has  done  this.  Thousands  of  other  husbands  are 
driven,  by  one  cause  or  another,  to  lead  this  double 
life." 

"O  God!  "  cried  the  countess,  "how  heavy  is  the 
cross  I  have  to  bear!  If  the  husband  whom  thou 
gavest  me  in  thy  wrath  can  be  happy  only  through  my 
death,  recall  me  to  thy  bosom!  " 

"Had  you  shown  those  admirable  feelings  of  self- 
sacrifice  earlier,"  said  the  count,  coldly,  "we  should 
still  be  happy." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Angelique,  bursting  into  tears, 
"forgive  me  if  I  have  really  done  wrong.  Yes,  I  am 
ready  to  obey  you  in  all  things,  certain  that  you  will 
only  ask  that  which  is  natural  and  right.  Henceforth 
I  will  be  to  you  whatever  you  desire." 

"If  it  is  your  intention  to  force  me  to  say  that  I  no 
longer  love  you,  I  must  have  the  dreadful  courage  to 
say  it.  Can  I  control  my  heart?  Can  I  efface  in  one 
moment  the  memories  of  fifteen  years  of  misery?  I 
love  no  more.     Those  words  enfold  a  mystery  as  deep 


A  Double  Life.  269 

as  that  contained  in  those  other  words,  '  I  love. ' 
Esteem,  respect,  regard  may  be  obtained,  and  lost,  and 
won  again,  but  love,  ah,  never!  I  might  goad  myself 
a  thousand  years  and  it  could  not  live  again,  especially 
for  one  who  has  wilfully  destroyed  her  charm." 

"Ah!  Monsieur  le  comte,  I  sincerely  hope  the  day 
may  never  come  when  those  words  shall  be  said  to 
you  by  her  you  love,  in  the  tone  and  manner  with 
which  you  say  them  now." 

"Will  you  come  with  me  to-night  to  the  Opera  and 
wear  a  ball  dress?  " 

The  shudder  of  repugnance  which  that  sudden 
demand  produced  was  her  answer  to  the  question. 


270  A  Double  Life. 


III. 


RESULT. 


On  one  of  the  first  days  of  December,  1833,  a  man 
whose  snow-white  hair  and  countenance  appeared  to 
show  that  grief  had  aged  him  more  than  years  (for 
he  seemed  about  sixty)  was  passing  through  the  rue 
Gaillon  after  midnight.  He  paused  before  a  poor- 
looking  house  of  three  stories  to  examine  one  of  the 
windows  which  were  placed  at  equal  distances  in  the 
mansarde  roof.  A  faint  gleam  came  from  its  humble 
sash,  in  which  some  panes  were  replaced  by  paper. 
The  passer  was  looking  at  that  flickering  light  with 
the  idle  curiosity  of  a  Parisian  lounger,  when  a  young 
man  came  suddenly  and  rapidly  from  the  house.  As 
the  pale  rays  of  the  street  lamp  fell  upon  the  face  of 
the  older  man,  he  seemed  not  wholly  surprised  when, 
in  spite  of  the  darkness,  the  young  man  came  to  him, 
with  the  precautions  used  in  Paris  when  one  fears  to 
be  mistaken  in  a  recognition. 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  latter,  "is  it  really  you, 
Monsieur  le  comte,  alone,  on  foot,  at  this  hour,  and 
so  far  from  the  rue  Saint-Lazare?  Allow  me  the 
honor  of  offering  you  my  arm.  The  pavement  to- 
night is  so  slippery  that  unless  we  support  each 
other,"  he  added,  to  spare  the  pride  of  the  old  man, 
"we  shall  find  it  difficult  to  escape  a  fall." 


A  Double  Life.  271 

"But,  my  dear  friend,  I  am  only  fifty-nine  years  of 
age  —  unhappily  for  me,"  said  the  Comte  de  Granville. 
"So  celebrated  a  physician  as  yourself  ought  to  know 
that  a  man  is  in  his  full  vigor  at  that  time  of  life." 

"Then  you  must  be  engaged  in  some  love  affair," 
replied  Horace  Bianchon,  laughing.  "You  are  not,  I 
am  sure,  accustomed  to  go  on  foot.  When  a  man  has 
such  horses  as  yours  —  " 

"But  the  greater  part  of  the  time,"  said  the  Comte 
de  Granville,  "I  do  return  from  the  Palais,  or  the 
Cercle  des  Etrangers,  on  foot  " 

"And  carrying,  no  doubt,  on  your  person  large  sums 
of  money.  Is  n't  that  inviting  a  dagger,  Monsieur  le 
comte?" 

"I  am  not  afraid  of  such  daggers,"  replied  the  count 
with  a  careless  though  melancholy  air. 

"But  at  any  rate  you  ought  not  to  stand  still,"  said 
the  physician,  drawing  the  magistrate  on  toward  the 
boulevard.  "A  little  more,  and  I  shall  think  you 
want  to  rob  me  of  your  last  illness,  and  to  die  by 
another  hand  than  mine." 

"Well,  you  surprised  me  engaged  in  a  bit  of  spy- 
ing," said  the  count,  smiling.  "Whether  I  pass 
through  this  street  on  foot  or  in  a  carriage,  at  any 
hour  of  the  night  I  am  certain  to  see  at  a  third  story 
window  of  the  house  you  have  just  left  the  shadow  of  a 
person  who  appears  to  be  working  with  heroic  courage." 

So  saying,  the  count  stopped  short,  as  if  some  sud- 
den pang  had  seized  him. 

"I  take  as  much  interest  in  that  attic,"  he  con- 
tinued, "as  a  Parisian  bourgeois  feels  in  the  comple- 
tion of  the  Palais-Royal  —  " 


272  A  Double  Life. 


U' 


•Well,"  cried  Horace,  eagerly,  interrupting  the 
count,  "I  can  tell  you  —  " 

"Tell  me  nothing,"  said  Granville,  cutting  short  the 
doctor's  words.  "I  wouldn't  give  a  penny  to  know 
if  the  shadow  that  flickers  on  that  ragged  curtain  is 
that  of  a  man  or  woman,  or  if  the  occupant  of  that 
garret  is  happy  or  unhappy.  If  I  was  surprised  to- 
night not  to  see  that  person  working,  and  if  I  stopped 
for  a  moment  to  gaze  at  the  window,  it  was  solely  for 
the  amusement  of  making  conjectures  as  numerous  and 
as  silly  as  those  the  street  idlers  make  about  buildings 
in  course  of  erection.  For  the  last  nine  years,  my 
young  —  " 

He  stopped,  seemed  to  hesitate  to  use  some  expres- 
sion, and  then,  with  a  hasty  gesture,  added :  — 

"No,  I  will  not  call  you  friend;  I  detest  every  sem- 
blance of  sentiment.  For  the  last  nine  years,  as  I 
was  saying,  I  am  no  longer  surprised  that  old  people 
take  pleasure  in  cultivating  flowers  and  planting  trees. 
The  events  of  life  have  taught  them  not  to  trust  in 
human  affections.  I  grew  an  old  man  suddenly;  I 
attach  myself  now  to  none  but  animals ;  I  will  call  no 
man  friend.  I  abhor  the  life  of  the  world,  in  which  I 
am  alone.  Nothing,  nothing,"  added  the  count,  with  an 
expression  which  made  the  young  man  shudder, — "noth- 
ing can  move  me  now,  and  nothing  can  interest  me." 

"But  you  have  children?  " 

"My  children!"  he  replied,  in  a  tone  of  strange 
bitterness.  "Yes,  my  eldest  daughter  is  the  Comtesse 
cle  Vandenesse.  As  for  the  other,  her  sister's  mar- 
riage has  opened  the  way  to  hers.  My  two  sons  have 
met  with  great  success ;  the  vicomte  is  attorney-gen- 


A  Double  Life.  273 

eral  at  Limoges,  and  the  younger  is  king's  attorney. 
My  children  have  their  own  interests,  cares,  and 
solicitudes.  If  a  single  one  among  them  had  tried  to 
fill  the  void  that  is  here"  he  said,  striking  his  breast, 
"well,  that  one  would  have  ruined  his  or  her  life  by 
sacrificing  it  to  me!  And  why  have  done  so,  after 
all,  merely  to  brighten  my  few  remaining  years? 
Besides,  could  it  have  been  done  ?  Should  I  not  have 
looked  upon  such  generous  care  as  the  payment  of  a 
debt?     But  —  " 

Here  the  old  man  smiled  with  deepest  irony. 

"But,  doctor,  the  lessons  we  teach  our  children  in 
arithmetic  are  never  lost;  they  learn  how  to  calcu- 
late—  their  inheritance.  At  this  moment  mine  are 
reckoning  on  that." 

"Oh!  Monsieur  le  comte,  how  can  such  thoughts 
have  come  into  your  mind  ? —  you,  so  kind,  so  obliging, 
so  humane?  Ami  not  myself  a  living  proof  of  the 
beneficence  of  which  you  take  so  broad  and  grand  a 
view  r 

"For  my  own  pleasure,"  said  the  count,  hastily. 
"I  pay  for  a  sensation  as  I  shall  pay  to-morrow  in 
piles  of  gold  for  the  paltry  excitement  of  play,  which 
stirs  my  heart  for  an  instant.  I  help  my  fellow-mor- 
tals for  the  same  reason  that  I  play  at  cards.  There- 
fore I  look  for  no  gratitude  from  any  one.  Ah !  young 
man,  the  events  of  life  have  flowed  across  my  soul  like 
the  lava  of  Vesuvius  through  Herculaneum;  the  city 
exists,  dead." 

"Those  who  have  brought  a  soul  so  warm  and  living: 
as  yours  to  such  a  point  of  insensibility  are  guilty  of 
an  awful  wrong." 

18 


274  A  Double  Life. 

"Not  another  word!  "  cried  the  count,  with  a  look 
of  horror. 

"You  have  a  malady  upon  you  which  you  ought  to 
let  me  cure,"  said  Bianchon,  in  a  voice  of  emotion. 

"Do  you  know  a  cure  for  death?"  exclaimed  the 
count,  impatiently. 

"Yes,  Monsieur  le  comte,  I  will  engage  to  stir  that 
heart  you  call  so  dead." 

"Are  you  another  Talma?  " 


if 


No;  but  Nature  is  as  far  superior  to  Talma  as 
Talma  may  be  to  me.  Hear  me :  that  garret  at  which 
you  gazed  with  interest  is  inhabited  by  a  woman, 
some  thirty  years  of  age,  in  whom  love  has  become 
fanaticism.  The  object  of  her  worship  is  a  young 
man  of  fine  appearance,  to  whom  some  evil  genius 
gave  at  birth  all  the  vices  of  humanity.  He  is  a 
gambler ;  whether  he  loves  women  or  wine  best  no  one 
could  decide;  he  has  committed,  to  my  knowledge, 
crimes  that  should  have  brought  him  to  the  correc- 
tional police.  Well,  that  unhappy  woman  sacrificed 
for  him  a  happy  life,  a  man  who  adored  her,  by 
whom  she  had  two  children  —  What  is  it,  Monsieur 
le  comte  ?  are  you  ill  ?  " 

"No,  nothing;  goon!" 

"She  has  let  him  squander  her  whole  property;  she 
would  give  him,  I  think,  the  world  if  she  had  it; 
night  and  day  she  works;  often,  without  a  murmur, 
she  has  seen  that  monster  take  the  money  she  had 
earned  to  clothe  her  children  —  nay,  their  very  food 
for  the  morrow!  Three  days  ago  she  sold  her  hair, 
the  finest  I  ever  saw;  that  man  came  in  before  she 
hid  the  bit  of  gold;  he  claimed  it;  for  a  smile,  a  kiss, 


A  Double  Life.  275 

she  gave  him  the  value  of  clays  of  life  and  comfort! 
Is  not  such  love  both  shocking  and  sublime?  But  toil 
and  hunger  have  begun  to  waste  her  strength;  the 
cries  of  her  children  torture  her;  she  has  fallen  ill; 
to-night  she  is  moaning  on  her  pallet,  unable,  as  you 
saw,  to  work.  The  children  have  had  no  food  all  day ; 
they  have  ceased  to  cry,  being  too  weak;  they  were 
silent  when  I  got  there." 

Bianchon  stopped.  The  Comte  de  Granville,  as  if 
in  spite  of  himself,  had  plunged  his  hand  into  his 
pocket. 

"I  foresee,  my  young  friend,  that  she  will  live," 
said  the  old  man,  "if  you  take  care  of  her." 

"Ah!  poor  creature,"  cried  the  doctor,  "who  would 
not  take  care  of  one  so  wretched  ?  But  I  hope  to  do 
more;  I  hope  to  cure  her  of  her  love." 

"But,"  said  the  count,  withdrawing  his  hand  full  of 
bank-notes  from  his  pocket,  "why  should  I  pity  a 
wretchedness  whose  joys  would  seem  to  me  worth 
more  than  all  my  fortune?  She  feels,  she  lives,  that 
woman !  Louis  XV.  would  have  given  his  whole  king- 
dom to  rise  from  his  coffin  and  have  three  days  of 
youth  and  life.  Is  not  that  the  history  of  millions 
of  dead  men,  millions  of  sick  men,  millions  of  old 
men?" 

"Poor  Caroline!  "  exclaimed  the  physician. 

Hearing  that  name  the  Comte  de  Granville  quivered ; 
he  seized  the  arm  of  his  companion,  who  fancied  him- 
self gripped  by  iron  pincers. 

"  Is  she  Caroline  Crochard  ?  "  asked  the  old  man,  in 
a  faltering  voice. 

"Then  you  know  her?  "  replied  the  doctor. 


276  A  Double  Life. 

"And  that  wretch  is  named  Solvet —  Ah!  you 
have  kept  your  word;  you  have  stirred  my  heart  by 
the  most  terrible  sensation  I  shall  know  till  I  am 
dust,"  said  the  count.  "Another  of  hell's  gifts!"  he 
cried;  "but  I  know  how  to  pay  them  back." 

At  that  moment  the  count  and  Bianchon  had  reached 
the  corner  of  the  rue  de  la  Chaussee-d'Antin.  One  of 
those  night-birds,  a  scavenger,  with  his  basket  on  his 
back  and  a  hook  in  his  hand,  was  close  beside  the 
post  where  the  count  had  now  stopped  short.  The 
face  of  the  old  rag-picker  was  worthy  of  those  which 
Charlet  has  immortalized  in  his  sketches  of  the  school 
of  sweepers. 

"  Do  you  often  pick  up  thousand-franc  notes  ?  "  the 
count  said  to  him. 

"Sometimes,  my  master." 

"Do  you  return  them?  " 

"That's  according  to  the  reward  offered." 

"Here,  my  man,"  cried  the  count,  giving  him  a  note 
for  a  thousand  francs.  "Take  that;  but  remember 
that  I  give  it  to  you  on  condition  that  you  spend  it  at 
a  tavern,  get  drunk  upon  it,  quarrel,  beat  your  wife, 
stab  your  friends.  That  will  set  the  watch,  and  sur- 
geons and  doctors,  perhaps  the  gendarmes,  the  attor- 
neys, the  judges  and  the  jailers  all  to  work.  Don't 
change  that  programme,  or  the  devil  will  revenge  it  on 
you." 

It  needs  an  artist  with  the  pencil  of  Charlet  and 
Callot  and  the  brushes  of  Teniers  and  Rembrandt  to 
give  a  true  idea  of  this  nocturnal  scene. 

"There  's  my  account  settled,  for  the  present,  with 
hell,  and  I  have  had  some  pleasure  out  of  my  money," 


A  Double  Life.  277 

said  the  count  in  a  deep  voice,  pointing  out  to  the 
stupefied  physician  the  indescribable  face  of  the  gap- 
ing rag-picker.  "As  for  Caroline  Crocharcl,"  he  con- 
tinued, "she  may  die  in  the  tortures  of  hunger  and 
thirst,  listening  to  the  cries  of  her  starving  children, 
recognizing  the  vileness  of  that  man  she  loves.  I  will 
not  give  one  penny  to  keep  her  from  suffering;  and  I 
will  never  speak  to  you  again,  for  the  sole  reason  that 
you  have  succored  her." 

The  count  left  Bianchon  standing  motionless  as  a 
statue,  and  disappeared,  moving  with  the  rapidity  of 
a  young  man  in  the  direction  of  the  rue  Saint-Lazare. 
When  he  reached  the  little  house  which  he  occupied 
in  that  street,  he  saw,  with  some  surprise,  a  carriage 
before  the  door. 

"Monsieur  le  procureur  du  roi,"  said  his  valet  when 
he  entered,  "has  been  here  an  hour,  waiting  to  speak 
with  monsieur.     He  is  in  monsieur's  bedroom." 

Granville  made  a  sign  to  the  man,  who  retired. 

"What  motive  could  be  strong  enough  to  make  you 
break  my  express  orders  that  none  of  my  children 
should  come  to  this  house  without  being  sent  for  ?  " 
he  said  to  his  son  as  he  entered  the  room. 

"Father,"  said  the  son,  respectfully,  in  a  voice  that 
trembled,  "I  feel  sure  you  will  pardon  me  when  you 
have  heard  my  reason." 

"Your  answer  is  a  proper  one,"  said  his  father, 
pointing  to  a  chair.  "Sit  down;  but  whether  I  sit  or 
walk  about,  pay  no  attention  to  my  movements." 

"Father,"  said  the  procureur  du  roi,  "a  young  lad 
has  been  arrested  this  evening  at  the  house  of  a  friend 


278  A  Double  Life. 

of  mine,  where  he  committed  a  theft;  the  lad  appeals 
to  you  and  says  he  is  your  son." 

"His  name?  "  asked  the  count,  trembling. 

"Charles  Crochard." 

44 Enough,"   said    the   father,    with   an    imperative 
gesture. 

Granville  walked  up  and  down  the  room  in  a  deep 
silence  which  his  son  was  careful  not  to  break. 

"My  son,"  he  said  at  last,  in  a  tone  so  gentle, 
so  paternal  that  the  young  man  quivered,  "Charles 
Crochard  has  told  the  truth.  I  am  glad  that  you  have 
come  to  me,  my  good  Eugene.  Here  is  a  sum  of 
money,"  he  added,  taking  up  a  mass  of  bank-bills, 
"which  you  must  use  as  you  see  fit  in  this  affair.  I 
trust  in  you,  and  I  approve,  in  advance,  all  that  you 
may  do,  whether  at  the  present  time,  or  in  the  future. 
Eugene,  my  dear  son,  kiss  me;  perhaps  we  now  see 
each  other  for  the  last  time.  To-morrow  I  shall  ask 
leave  of  absence  of  the  king  and  start  for  Italy. 
Though  a  father  is  not  bound  to  account  to  his  chil- 
dren for  his  conduct,  he  ought  to  leave  them  as  a 
legacy  the  experience  which  fate  has  allotted  to  him, 
— it  is  apart  of  their  inheritance.  When  you  marry," 
continued  the  count,  with  an  involuntary  shudder,  "  do 
not  commit  that  act,  the  most  important  of  all  those 
imposed  upon  us  by  society,  thoughtlessly.  Study 
long  the  character  of  the  woman  with  whom  you  asso-  " 
ciate  yourself  for  life ;  also  consult  me ;  I  should  wish 
to  judge  her  for  myself.  A  want  of  union  between 
husband  and  wife,  however  it  may  be  caused,  leads  to 
frightful  evils.     We  are,  sooner  or  later,  punished  for 


A  Double  Life.  279 

not  obeying  social  laws  —  But  as  to  that,  I  will 
write  to  you  from  Florence;  a  father,  especially  if 
he  has  the  honor  to  be  a  judge  in  the  highest  courts 
of  law,  ought  not  to  blush  in  presence  of  his  son. 
Farewell." 


THE  PEACE  OF  A  HOME. 


THE    PEACE    OF    A    HOME. 


TO    MY    DEAR   NIECE,  VALENTINE    SURVILLE. 

The  incident  related  in  this  Scene  took  place  toward 
the  end  of  November,  in  the  year  1809,  at  the  period 
when  the  fleeting  empire  of  Napoleon  was  at  its  apogee 
of  splendor.  The  trumpets  of  the  victory  of  Wagram 
were  still  echoing  in  the  heart  of  the  Austrian  mon- 
archy. Peace  was  signed  between  France  and  the 
Coalition.  Kings  and  princes  were  coming,  like 
planets,  to  accomplish  their  evolutions  round  Napo- 
leon, who  gave  himself  the  happiness  of  dragging  all 
Europe  in  his  suite,  — a  magnificent  exercise  of  power, 
which  he  displayed  later,  and  more  signally,  at 
Dresden. 

Never,  within  the  knowledge  of  contemporaries,  did 
Paris  witness  such  splendid  fetes  as  those  which  pre- 
ceded and  followed  the  marriage  of  the  sovereign  with 
the  archduchess  of  Austria.  Never,  in  the  grandest 
days  of  the  old  monarchy,  had  so  many  crowned  heads 
gathered  on  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  and  never  was  the 
aristocracy  of  France  so  rich  and  brilliant.  The  dia- 
monds profusely  strewn  upon  all  toilets,  the  gold  and 
silver  lace  of  the  uniforms  contrasted  so  strongly  with 


284  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

republican  plainness  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  riches  of 
the  globe  had  suddenly  been  poured  into  the  salons  of 
Paris.  A  general  intoxication  had,  as  it  were,  seized 
upon  that  empire  of  a  day.  All  the  military,  with  the 
one  exception  of  their  leader,  were  revelling  like  par- 
venus in  the  treasures  won  by  millions  of  men  in 
woollen  epaulets,  whose  own  demands  were  satisfied 
with  scraps  of  red  ribbon. 

At  this  period  most  women  affected  the  ease  and 
laxity  of  morals  which  distinguished  the  reign  of 
Louis  XV.  Whether  it  was  in  imitation  of  the  tone 
of  the  fallen  monarchy,  or  because  certain  members  of 
the  imperial  family  set  the  example  (as  the  cavillers 
of  the  faubourg  Saint-Germain  averred),  it  is  unde- 
niable that  men  and  women  rushed  into  pleasures  and 
dissipation  with  a  daring  that  seemed  to  foreshadow 
a  coming  cataclysm. 

There  was,  however,  another  reason  for  the  license 
that  prevailed.  The  infatuation  of  women  for  the 
military  became  an  actual  frenzy,  and  it  suited  the 
views  of  the  emperor  too  well  to  allow  him  to  curb  it. 
The  frequent  call  to  arms,  which  made  the  treaties 
concluded  between  Napoleon  and  the  European  powers 
seem  little  more  than  armistices,  exposed  all  passions 
and  courtships  to  chances  and  changes  as  rapid  as  the 
marching  and  countermarching  of  the  forces.  Hearts 
became  as  nomad  as  the  regiments.  Between  a  first 
and  a  fifth  bulletin  from  the  Grand  Army  a  woman 
might  have  been,  successively,  mistress  and  wife, 
mother  and  widow.  Was  it  the  perspective  of  prob- 
able widowhood,  or  the  hope  of  bearing  a  name 
inscribed  on  the   pages  of   history,  that  made  these 


The  Peace  of  a  Home,  285 

imperial  soldiers  so  seductive?  Were  women  drawn 
to  these  heroes  by  the  thought  that  the  secret  of  their 
loves  might  soon  be  buried  on  a  battle-field  ?  Or  may 
we  seek  the  cause  of  their  tender  fanaticism  in  the 
noble  attraction  which  courage  has  for  women?  Per- 
haps all  these  motives,  which  the  future  historians 
of  the  Empire  may  amuse  themselves  by  weighing, 
counted  for  something  in  the  facile  promptitude  with 
which  they  gave  themselves  to  love.  However  that 
may  be,  we  must  admit  that  laurels  in  those  days 
covered  many  a  lapse  from  virtue;  women  sought 
those  bold  adventurers,  who  to  their  eyes  were  sources 
of  honor,  wealth,  and  pleasure;  while  to  unmarried 
girls  an  epaulet,  that  talisman  of  the  future,  signified 
joy  and  freedom. 

A  trait  of  this  epoch,  unique  in  our  annals,  which 
may  be  said  to  characterize  it,  was  a  frantic  passion 
for  all  that  glittered.  Never  were  seen  such  fireworks ; 
never  were  diamonds  so  valued.  Men,  as  eager  as 
women  for  the  precious  white  pebbles,  decked  them- 
selves with  them  profusely.  Possibly  the  army  need 
of  carrying  booty  in  small  compass  brought  jewels 
into  this  extreme  prominence  in  France.  A  man  was 
not  thought  ridiculous,  as  he  would  be  to-day,  if  he 
appeared  with  the  frill  of  his  shirt  and  all  his  fingers 
adorned  with  enormous  diamonds.  Murat,  a  man  by 
nature  oriental,  set  the  example  of  this  absurd  luxury 
to  modern  soldiers. 

The  Comte  de  Gondreville,  formerly  called  citizen 
Malin,  whose  abduction  had  made  him  celebrated  [see 
"An  Historical  Mystery  "],  was  one  of  the  Luculluses 
of  that  conservative   Senate  that  conserved   nothing. 


286  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

He  had  postponed  the  giving  of  a  fete  in  honor  of  the 
Peace  in  order  to  pay  special  court  to  Napoleon  on  his 
return  to  Paris  by  eclipsing  the  other  flatterers  who 
then  surrounded  him. 

The  ambassadors  of  all  the  powers  friendly  to 
France,  the  most  important  personages  of  the  Empire, 
certain  princes,  and  all  the  women  distinguished  in 
this  society,  were,  on  the  evening  of  which  we  write, 
assembled  in  the  salons  of  the  opulent  senator. 
Dancing  languished,  for  the  company  awaited  the 
Emperor,  whose  presence  had  been  promised  to  the 
count.  Napoleon  would  have  kept  this  appointment 
had  it  not  been  for  a  scene  that  occurred  between  him- 
self and  Josephine, — the  scene  in  which  the  divorce 
was  first  discussed  between  them.  The  fact  of  that 
incident,  then  kept  secret  but  revealed  by  history,  did 
not  reach  the  ears  of  the  courtiers,  and  had  no  adverse 
influence  on  the  gayety  of  Gondreville's  fete,  except 
by  keeping  the  Emperor  away  from  it.  The  prettiest 
women  in  Paris  were  present,  rivalling  each  other  in 
luxury,  coquetry,  beauty,  and  jewels.  The  Bank,  the 
moneyed  circle,  proud  of  its  wealth,  seemed  anxious 
to  defy  those  gorgeous  generals  and  grand-officers  of 
the  Empire,  who  were  literally  gorged  with  crosses  and 
titles  and  decorations. 

These  great  balls  were  occasions  eagerly  seized  by 
the  rich  families  to  produce  their  young  heiresses 
before  the  eyes  of  Napoleon's  heroes,  with  the  rash 
design  of  exchanging  their  solid  clot  for  a  very  uncer- 
tain constancy.  Women  who  thought  the  power  of 
their  beauty  sufficient  went  to  prove  it.  There,  as 
elsewhere,    pleasure    was    only  a    mask.     Serene    and 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  287 

smiling  faces,  calm  and  undisturbed  foreheads  hid 
odious  calculations;  friendly  assurances  were  hollow; 
and  many  men  and  women  distrusted  their  friends 
even  more  than  they  did  their  enemies. 

These  observations  were  necessary  to  explain  the 
events  of  the  little  imbroglio  which  makes  the  subject 
of  this  Scene,  and  the  painting,  slightly  softened,  of 
the  tone  and  manners  which  reigned  at  that  period  in 
the  salons  of  Paris. 

"Turn  your  eyes  toward  that  truncated  column  on 
which  is  a  candelabrum;  don't  you  see  that  young 
woman  with  her  hair  a  la  chinoise,  —  there,  in  the  cor- 
ner, to  the  left?  She  wears  blue  harebells  in  her  chest- 
nut hair,  which  is  coiled  in  a  mass  at  the  back  of  her 
head.  Surely  you  see  her  now?  She  is  so  pale  she 
must  be  ill;  what  a  dainty  little  thing  it  is!  now  she 
is  looking  towards  us;  her  eyes  are  blue,  almond- 
shaped,  enchantingly  soft,  made  for  tenderness!  But 
look,  look  there!  she  is  stooping  to  watch  Madame  de 
Vaudremont  through  this  labyrinth  of  moving  heads 
with  their  lofty  coiffures  which  intercept  her  sight." 

"Yes,  I  see  her,  my  dear  fellow.  You  need  only 
have  said  she  was  the  fairest  woman  here.  I  've 
noticed  her  before;  she  has  the  most  perfect  com- 
plexion I  have  ever  seen.  I  defy  you  to  distinguish 
at  this  distance  the  pearls  on  her  neck  from  the  skin 
of  it.  But  she  is  either  prudish  or  coquettish,  for  the 
ruches  on  her  gown  will  scarcely  allow  one  to  guess  at 
her  figure.  But  what  shoulders!  the  dewy  whiteness 
of  a  lily  itself!" 

"Who  is  she?  "  said  the  man  who  had  spoken  first. 

"Ah!  that  I  don't  know." 


288  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

"Aristocrat!  Do  you  mean,  Montcornet,  to  keep 
all  the  pretty  women  to  yourself?  " 

"It  is  highly  becoming  in  you  to  gird  at  me!  "  re- 
plied Montcornet,  laughing.  "Do  you  think  you  have 
the  right  to  insult  a  poor  general  because,  being  the 
successful  rival  of  de  Soulanges,  you  can't  cut  a  caper 
without  alarming  Madame  de  Vaudremont?  How 
insolent  you  are,  you  government  officials,  who  sit 
supreme  in  your  chairs,  while  we,  poor  devils!  have 
the  shells  whizzing  round  us.  Come,  master  of  peti- 
tions, let  others  glean  in  the  field  whose  precarious 
possession  shall  not  be  yours  till  we  soldiers  leave  it. 
Hey!  the  deuce!  you  should  live  and  let  live!  My 
friend,  if  you  did  but  know  German  women  you  'd  be 
willing  to  serve  me,  I  think,  with  this  Parisian  you 
admire." 

"General,  since  you  have  already  honored  with  your 
notice  this  woman,  whom  I  have  just  seen  for  the  first 
time,  have  the  charity  to  tell  me  whether  you  have  seen 
her  dancing." 

"My  dear  Martial,  where  do  you  come  from?  If 
you  are  sent  on  an  embassy  I  augur  ill  of  your  suc- 
cess. Don't  you  see  three  ranks  of  the  most  finished 
coquettes  in  Paris  between  that  lady  and  the  swarm 
I  of  dancers  who  are  buzzing  under  the  chandelier? 
Didn't  you  yourself  need  an  eyeglass  to  discover  her 
in  the  angle  of  that  column  where  she  seems  to  be 
buried  in  obscurity,  in  spite  of  the  candles  which 
blaze  above  her  head  ?  My  dear  fellow,  she  is  prob- 
ably the  wife  of  a  sub-prefect  in  Lippe  or  Dyle, 
who  has  come  here  to  try  to  make  a  prefect  of  her 
husband." 


The  Peace  of  a  Home,  289 

"Then  she  will  do  it,"  said  the  master  of  petitions, 
hastily. 

"I  doubt  it,"  said  the  colonel  of  cuirassiers,  laugh- 
ing. "  She  seems  as  new  to  intrigue  as  you  are  to 
diplomacy.  I  '11  bet,  Martial,  that  you  can't  find  out 
how  she  came  here." 

The  master  of  petitions  looked  at  the  colonel  of 
cuirassiers  with  an  air  of  mingled  disdain  and 
curiosity. 

"Well,"  said  Montcornet,  "she  arrived,  no  doubt,  at 
nine  o'clock,  punctually,  —  the  first  guest,  probably, 
and  very  annoying  to  Madame  de  Gondreville,  who 
can't  keep  two  ideas  in  her  head  at  the  same  time. 
Snubbed  by  the  mistress  of  the  house,  and  retreating 
from  chair  to  chair  as  each  new  guest  arrived,  till  she 
was  squeezed  into  that  dark  corner,  she  has  n't  dared 
to  escape,  shut  in  as  she  is  by  the  jealousy  of  the 
women  about  her,  who  would  like  nothing  better  than 
to  bury  that  dangerous  face.  Those  gentle  creatures, 
so  innocent  apparently,  have  formed  a  coalition 
against  her;  and  that  without  a  word  to  each  other 
beyond,  'Do  you  know  who  that  little  woman  in  a 
blue  dress  can  be?  '  Look  here,  Martial,  if  you  want 
to  be  overwhelmed  with  flattering  looks  and  more 
enticing  speeches  than  you  '11  ever  get  again  in  the 
whole  course  of  your  life,  try  to  break  through  the 
triple  rampart  that  surrounds  your  white  lad}7.  You  '11 
see  if  the  stupidest  of  those  women  hasn't  something 
piquant  to  say,  some  clever  trick  to  play  to  stop  you 
before  you  can  reach  the  plaintive  stranger.  Don't 
3tou   think,    by   the   bye,    that   her   air   is   somewhat 


elegiac?" 


19 


290  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

"Do  you  think  so,  Montcornet?  Of  course  she's  a 
married  woman  ?  " 

"Why  not  a  widow?  " 

"She  would  be  more  lively,"  said  the  master  of 
petitions,  laughing. 

"Perhaps  she  is  a  widow  whose  husband  plays 
bouillotte,"  said  the  general. 

"Since  the  peace  there  have  been  plenty  of  such 
widows,"  replied  Martial.  ""But,  my  dear  Montcornet, 
we  are  two  idiots.  That  head  expresses  innocence; 
there  is  too  much  youth  and  candor  on  that  forehead 
and  about  those  temples ;  no,  she  cannot  be  a  married 
woman.  What  vigorous  tints  in  the  pure  skin;  noth- 
ing shrunken  about  the  texture  of  the  nose !  The  lips, 
the  chin,  all  is  fresh  on  that  face  like  the  bud  of  a 
white  rose.  —  And  yet  its  expression  is  veiled  by  a 
cloud;  what  should  make  such  a  beautiful  young 
creature  weep  ?  " 

"Women  weep  for  so  little,"  said  the  colonel. 

"Do  they?"  said  Martial.  "But  she  is  not  sad 
because  she  does  not  dance;  her  grief  is  not  of  the 
moment.  She  has  made  herself  beautiful  to-night  for 
some  purpose,  one  can  see  that.  She  loves  already  — 
I  '11  wager  that  she  does." 

"Bah!  very  likely  she  is  the  daughter  of  some  pen- 
niless princelet  of  Germany:  no  one  has  spoken  to 
her,"  said  Montcornet. 

"Ah!  how  unfortunate  a  penniless  girl  is,"  replied 
Martial.  "Look  at  her!  what  grace,  what  delicacy! 
And  yet  not  one  of  those  shrews  around  her,  who  think 
themselves  so  sensible,  has  said  a  word  to  her.  I 
wish  she  would  smile;  we  could  see  if  her  teeth  are 
beautiful." 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  291 

uAh  ga!  why,  you  boil  up  like  milk!"  cried  the 
colonel,  rather  piqued  to  find  a  rival  in  his  friend. 

"How  strange!  "  continued  the  master  of  petitions, 
paying  no  heed  to  the  colonel's  remark,  and  turning 
his  eyeglass  on  the  company  who  surrounded  them,  — 
"how  strange  that  no  one  seems  to  know  that  sweet 
exotic  flower !  " 

"She's  a  companion,  or  governess,  probably,"  said 
Montcornet. 

"Nonsense!  —  a  governess  with  sapphires  that  are 
worthy  of  a  queen,  and  wearing  a  Mechlin  dress!  Tell 
that  to  an  ignoramus,  general!  You  will  never  be 
strong  in  diplomacy  if  you  mistake  a  German  princess 
for  a  lady's  companion." 

General  Montcornet  here  caught  by  the  arm  a  stout 
little  man,  whose  grizzled  hair  and  lively  eyes  might 
be  seen  in  all  the  doorways,  mingling  unceremoniously 
in  the  various  groups,  who  greeted  him  respectfully. 

"  Gondreville,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Montcornet, 
"who  is  that  charming-  little  woman  sitting;  over  there 
under  the  great  chandelier?" 

"The  chandelier?  made  by  Ravrio,  my  dear  fellow; 
Isabey  gave  the  design." 

"Oh,  I  have  already  recognized  your  taste  there," 
said  the  general,  "but  who  is  the  lady?  " 

"I  don't  know.  Some  friend  of  my  wife,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"Perhaps  your  mistress,  old  slyboots." 

"No,  no,  word  of  honor!  Madame  de  Gondreville 
is  the  oue  woman  in  Paris  capable  of  inviting  people 
whom  nobodv  knows  to  her  house." 

In  spite  of  this  rather  sour  remark,  the  stout  little 


292  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

man  continued  to  smile  with  inward  satisfaction  at 
the  colonel's  supposition.  The  latter  now  rejoined 
Martial  among  a  group  of  other  men  from  whom  he 
was  vainly  endeavoring  to  find  out  the  name  of  the 
unknown  lady.  The  colonel  caught  him  by  the  arm, 
and  whispered :  — 

"My  dear  fellow,  take  care  what  you  are  doing! 
Madame  de  Vaudremont  has  been  watching  you  for 
the  last  few  minutes  with  alarming  attention.  She  is 
a  woman  to  guess  from  the  very  motion  of  your  lips 
what  you  are  saying  to  me.  Our  eyes  have  been  too 
significant;  she  has  followed  their  direction,  and  she 
is  now  more  interested  than  we  are  in  the  little  blue 
lady." 

"That 's  an  old  bit  of  strategy,  my  dear  Mont- 
cornet!  Besides,  what  do  I  care?  I  am  like  the 
Emperor;  when  I  make  conquests  I  keep  them." 

"Martial,  your  conceit  deserves  a  lesson.  What, 
pekinf  you  who  have  the  happiness  of  being  the  prob- 
able husband  of  Madame  de  Vaudremont,  a  charming 
widow,  twenty-two  years  old,  afflicted  with  four  thou- 
sand napoleons  a  year,  a  woman  who  puts  a  diamond 
on  your  finger  as  beautiful  as  this,"  and  he  took  the 
hand  of  the  young  man,  who  complacently  allowed 
him  to  look  at  the  ring  it  bore,  "do  you  pretend  to 
play  Lovelace  as  if  you  were  a  colonel  of  cuirassiers 
and  forced  to  sustain  a  military  reputation  in  love? 
Reflect,  my  dear  fellow,  on  what  you  may  lose." 

"It  won't  be  my  liberty,  at  any  rate,"  replied  Mar- 
tial, with  a  laugh  that  was  somewhat  forced. 

He  cast  a  passionate  glance  at  Madame  de  Vaudre- 
mont,   who   replied    by  a    smile    that   was    somewhat 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  293 

anxious,  for  she  had  seen  the  general  examine  the 
ring  on  the  young  man's  hand. 

"Listen,  Martial,"  said  the  colonel;  "if  you  per- 
sist in  hovering  round  my  unknown  lady,  I  will  turn 
round  and  undertake  the  conquest  of  Madame  de 
Vaudremont." 

"So  you  may,  dear  cuirassier,  but  you  won't  obtain 
that!"  and  he  put  the  polished  nail  of  his  thumb  under 
his  upper  teeth  and  gave  a  click. 

"Remember  that  1  am  a  bachelor,  and  my  sword  is 
my  fortune,"  said  the  colonel;  "to  dare  me  thus  is  to 
seat  Tantalus  before  a  feast  —  which  he  will  devour." 

"Br-r-r!" 

This  mocking  accumulation  of  consonants  served  as 
an  answer  to  the  general's  challenge.  Martial  looked 
him  over  gayly  as  he  nodded  his  head  and  prepared  to 
leave  him. 

The  fashion  of  the  day  obliged  men  to  wear  white 
cassimere  breeches  and  white  silk  stockings  at  a  ball. 
This  becoming  costume  brought  out  the  perfections  of 
Montcornet's  figure.  He  was  then  about  thirty-five 
years  of  age,  and  attracted  all  eyes  by  his  height, 
which  was  that  required  for  the  cuirassiers  of  the 
Imperial  Guard,  the  handsome  uniform  of  which  corps 
enhanced  the  dignity  of  his  figure  in  spite  of  a  certain 
embonpoint  caused  by  being  constantly  in  the  saddle. 

His  black  moustache  gave  a  frank  expression  to  a 
martial  face,  the  forehead  of  which  was  broad  and 
open ;  the  nose  was  aquiline  and  the  lips  red.  Mont- 
cornet's manners,  which  bore  the  imprint  of  a  certain 
nobility,  caused  by  the  habit  of  command,  might 
please  a  woman  who  would  have  the  good  sense  not 


294  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

to  wish  to  make  a  slave  of  her  husband.  The  colonel 
smiled  as  he  nodded  in  return  to  the  master  of  peti- 
tions, one  of  his  earliest  and  best  school  friends, 
whose  little  slim  figure  obliged  him,  in  order  to  reply 
to  his  sarcasm,  to  drop  his  satirically  amical  glance 
rather  low. 

The  Baron  Martial  de  la  Roche-Hugon  was  a 
young  Provencal  whom  Napoleon  protected,  and  whose 
chances  for  some  nice  berth  in  diplomacy  were  there- 
fore great.  He  had  charmed  the  Emperor  by  an 
Italian  pliancy,  by  his  genius  for  intrigue,  by  that 
eloquence  of  the  salon  and  science  of  manners  which 
so  often  and  so  easily  stand  in  place  of  more  solid 
and  manly  qualities.  Though  young  and  vivacious, 
his  face  already  had  the  unreflecting  gleam  of  tin,  a 
quality  indispensable  to  diplomatists,  allowing  them 
to  hide  their  emotions  and  disguise  their  sentiments, 
if,  indeed,  that  impassibility  does  not  argue  in  them 
the  absence  of  all  emotion  and  the  death  of  senti- 
ments. The  heart  of  a  diplomatist  may  be  regarded 
as  an  insoluble  problem,  for  the  three  most  illustrious 
ambassadors  of  the  present  epoch  have  distinguished 
themselves  by  the  persistency  of  their  hatreds  and  the 
romantic  devotion  of  their  love. 

Martial  belonged  to  the  class  of  men  who  are  able 
to  calculate  their  future  in  the  midst  of  their  most 
eager  enjoyments.-  He  had  already  judged  the  world 
with  the  fatuity  of  a  man  a  bonnes  fortunes,  disguising 
his  real  talents  under  the  livery  of  mediocrity,  having 
shrewdly  remarked  the  rapidity  with  which  those  per- 
sons who  gave  little  umbrage  to  the  master  made  their 
way. 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  295 

« 

The  two  friends  now  parted  with  a  cordial  shake  of 
the  hand.  The  music  of  the  ritornello,  which  warned 
the  ladies  it  was  time  to  form  the  quadrilles  of  a  new 
country-dance,  drove  the  men  from  the  centre  of  the 
room  where  they  were  talking  in  groups.  The  rapid 
conversation  we  have  just  quoted,  occurring  in  the 
interval  between  the  dances,  took  place  before  the 
fireplace  of  the  great  salon  of  the  hotel  Gondreville. 
The  questions  and  answers  had  been  scarcely  more 
than  whispered  in  each  other's  ear;  but  the  chande- 
liers and  the  candles  on  the  chimney-piece  threw  such 
a  strong  light  on  the  two  friends  that,  in  spite  of 
their  diplomatic  caution,  their  faces  were  unable  to 
disguise  the  expression  of  their  feelings  from  either 
the  clever  countess  or  the  innocent  young  stranger. 
This  detection  of  thousrht  is  to  idlers  one  of  the  Dleas- 

O  A. 

ures  that  they  find  in  society,  where  so  many  stupid 
fools  are  bored  to  death  —  without,  however,  daring 
to  acknowledge  it. 

To  understand  the  interest  of  the  conversation  it  is 
necessary  to  relate  an  event  which,  by  invisible  links, 
wras  about  to  unite  the  personages  of  our  little  drama, 
who  were  at  this  moment  scattered  about  the  salons. 

At  eleven  o'clock,  just  as  the  dancers  had  taken 
their  places,  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  Paris  and 
the  queen  of  fashion  had  entered  the  room.  She  made 
it  a  rule  never  to  arrive  at  a  ball  until  the  moment 
when  the  salons  had  reached  that  condition  of  ani- 
mated excitement  which  soon  takes  from  the  women 
present  the  freshness  of  their  faces  and  that  of  their 
gowns.  This  fleeting  moment  may  be  called  the  spring- 
time of  a  ball.     An  hour  later,  when  the  pleasure  is 


296  The  Peace  of  a  Home, 

past,  fatigue  appears,  and  the  scene  fades.  Madame 
de  Vaudremont  never  committed  the  mistake  of  stay- 
ing in  a  ballroom  till  her  flowers  drooped,  her  curls 
uncurled,  her  dress  was  crushed,  and  sleep  had  wooed 
her  eyelids.  She  was  careful  not  to  be  seen,  like  her 
rivals,  in  drowsy  beauty ;  she  maintained  her  reputa- 
tion for  coquettish  charm  by  retreating  from  a  festal 
scene  as  fresh  as  when  she  entered  it. 

On  this  occasion,  however,  Madame  de  Vaudremont 
was  destined  not  to  be  free  to  leave  whenever  she 
chose  the  salon  she  now  entered  in  triumph.  Pausing  a 
moment  on  the  threshold  of  the  door,  she  cast  an  ob- 
serving though  rapid  glance  on  the  women  present, 
studying  their  gowns  in  that  instant  to  convince  her- 
self that  hers  outdid  them  all.  The  celebrated  coquette 
then  advanced  into  the  room,  on  the  arm  of  one  of 
the  bravest  colonels  of  the  artillery  of  the  Guard,  a 
favorite  of  the  Emperor,  the  Comte  de  Soulanges. 
The  momentary  union  of  these  two  persons  seemed 
to  have  something  interesting  about  it,  for  on  hear- 
ing the  names  announced  of  Monsieur  de  Soulanges 
and  the  Comtesse  de  Vaudremont  several  women 
seated  like  wall-flowers  rose,  and  some  men  hurried 
from  the  other  salons  to  observe  this  entrance.  One 
of  the  jesters  who  are  never  absent  from  such 
assemblies  remarked  that  "the  ladies  had  as  much 
curiosity  to  see  a  man  faithful  to  his  passion  as  the 
men  had  to  watch  the  behavior  of  a  pretty  woman 
whom  it  was  difficult  to  fix." 

Though  the  Comte  de  Soulanges,  a  young  man  of 
twenty-six,  was  gifted  with  that  high-strung  tempera- 
ment which  gives  birth  to  the  noblest  qualities  of  men, 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  297 

his  puny  figure  and  his  pallid  skin  did  not  prepossess 
in  his  favor.  His  black  eyes  showed  vivacity,  but 
he  was  taciturn  in  society,  and  nothing  revealed  in 
him  one  of  those  great  oratorical  talents  which  were 
destined  to  shine  on  the  Right  in  the  legislative 
assemblies  of  the  Restoration.  The  Comtesse  de 
Yaudrernont,  a  tall,  rather  plump  woman,  with  a  skin 
that  was  dazzlingly  white,  carrying  her  little  head 
marvellously  well,  and,  possessing  the  immense  advan- 
tage of  inspiring  love  by  the  charm  of  her  manners, 
was  one  of  those  beings  who  fulfil  the  promises  held 
out  by  their  beauty. 

This  couple,  now  the  object  of  general  attention,  did 
not  allow  the  general  curiosity  to  meddle  with  them 
long.  The  colonel  and  the  countess  seemed  perfectly 
to  understand  that  chance  had  placed  them  in  an  awk- 
ward position.  As  Martial  de  la  Roche-Hugon  saw 
them  advance,  he  darted  behind  the  group  of  men 
around  the  fireplace,  who  formed  a  rampart  behind 
which  he  could  observe  Madame  de  Vaudremont  with 
the  jealous  attention  of  the  first  heat  of  a  passion.  A 
secret  voice  seemed  to  warn  him  that  a  success  on 
which  he  prided  himself  might  be,  after  all,  pre- 
carious. But  the  coldly  polite  smile  with  which  the 
countess  thanked  Monsieur  de  Soulanges,  and  the  ges- 
ture with  which  she  dismissed  him  as  she  took  a 
seat  beside  the  Comtesse  de  Gondreville,  relaxed  the 
muscles  which  jealousy  had  gathered  into  a  knot 
upon  Martial's  face.  Perceiving,  however,  that  de 
Soulanges  was  still  standing  within  two  feet  of  the 
sofa  on  which  she  was  sitting,  apparently  not  compre- 
hending the  glance  by  which  the  young  coquette  had 


298  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

told  him  that  they  were  making  themselves  ridiculous, 
Martial,  whose  Proven cal  head  was  volcanic,  frowned 
the  black  brows  that  overshadowed  his  blue  eyes, 
arranged  the  curls  of  his  brown  hair  to  keep  himself 
quiet,  and,  without  betraying  the  emotion  that  made 
his  heart  beat,  he  watched  the  countenance  of  Madame 
de  Vaudremont  and  that  of  Monsieur  de  Soulanges, 
while  chattering  with  his  neighbors. 

Soulanges  cast  tranquil  glances  on  the  quadruple 
line  of  women  who  surrounded  the  vast  salon  of  the 
senator,  apparently  admiring  that  border  of  diamonds, 
rubies,  and  golden  wheat-ears  flashing  on  plumed 
heads  whose  glitter  paled  the  light  of  the  candles, 
the  crystal  of  the  lustres,  and  the  gilding  of  the  walls. 
This  calm,  self-satisfied  indifference  in  his  rival  seemed 
to  disconcert  Martial.  Incapable  of  controlling  his 
secret  annoyance,  he  advanced  toward  Madame  de 
Vaudremont  to  pay  his  respects  to  her.  As  he  did 
so,  Soulanges  gave  him  a  vacant  look  and  turned 
away  his  head  impertinently.  Silence  reigned  for  a 
moment  in  the  salon,  where  curiosity  seemed  on  tip- 
toe in  every  mind.  The  outstretched  heads  wore  the 
oddest  expressions;  all  present  feared  and  expected 
one  of  those  outbursts  which  well-bred  persons  seek 
to  avoid. 

Suddenly  the  pale  face  of  the  count  became  as  scar- 
let as  the  facings  of  his  uniform,  and  his  eyes  dropped 
to  the  floor  as  if  to  conceal  the  causes  of  his  trouble. 
Observing  the  unknown  lady  in  blue  seated  beneath 
the  chandelier,  he  passed  hurriedly  in  front  of  the 
master  of  petitions  and  took  refuge  in  a  card-room. 
Martial  and  the  company  present  took  this  to  mean 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  299 

that  Soulanges  yielded  the  place  to  him,  fearing  the 
ridicule  that  always  attends  a  dethroned  lover.  The 
master  of  petitions  raised  his  head  proudly,  and  his 
eyes  fell  upon  the  unknown  lady.  Then  he  seated 
himself  coolly  beside  Madame  de  Vaudremont,  listen- 
ing to  what  she  said  with  so  abstracted  a  mind  that 
he  did  not  hear  the  words  which  that  coquettish  lady 
whispered  behind  her  fan :  — 

"Martial,  do  me  the  favor  not  to  wear,  to-night,  that 
ring  which  you  got  away  from  me.  I  have  my  reasons, 
which  I  will  explain  to  you  by  and  by ;  I  want  your 
arm,  presently,  to  go  to  the  Princesse  de  Wagram's." 

"Why  did  you  take  that  of  the  Comte  de  Soulanges 
to  come  here?"  he  said,  hearing  the  end  of  her 
sentence. 

"I  met  him  on  the  portico,"  she  replied;  ubut  leave 
me  now;  people  are  watching  us." 

Martial  rejoined  Montcornet.  The  little  blue  lady 
had  now  become  an  object  of  disquietude  in  diverse 
forms  to  the  colonel  of  cuirassiers,  to  Soulanges,  Mar- 
tial, and  Madame  de  Vaudremont.  When  Martial 
flung  his  parting  defiance  at  Montcornet,  he  rushed 
back  to  Madame  de  Vaudremont,  whom  he  hastened 
to  place  in  a  brilliant  quadrille.  Under  cover  of  the 
dance,  which  distracted  his  partner's  attention,  he 
fancied  he  could  with  impunity  turn  his  attention  to 
the  charms  of  his  new  attraction.  Although  he  suc- 
ceeded in  concealing  from  the  active  eyes  of  the  coun- 
tess the  first  glances  that  he  threw  at  the  little  blue 
lady,  he  was  soon  discovered  in  flagrante  delicto.  At 
first  he  pretended  absent-mindedness;  then  he  made 
no  response  to  the  seductive  advances  by  which  the 


300  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

countess  seemed  to  say,  "Do  you  love  me  to-uight?  " 
and  the  more  dreamy  and  silent  be  seemed,  the  more 
pressing  and  provocative  the  countess  became. 

While  Martial  danced,  Montcornet  went  from  group 
to  group  seeking  information  as  to  the  fair  unknown. 
After  exhausting  all  such  resources  in  vain,  he  was 
thinking  to  profit  by  a  moment  when  Madame  de 
Gondreville  seemed  at  liberty,  and  question  her  as  to 
the  name  of  the  mysterious  woman,  when  he  noticed 
a  slight  opening,  an  empty  space,  between  the  column 
which  held  the  candelabrum  and  the  adjoining  sofa. 
He  seized  the  opportunity  of  a  new  dance  to  thread 
his  way  through  the  empty  chairs  which  formed,  as 
it  were,  a  fortification  defended  by  the  mothers  and 
the  women  of  a  certain  age.  He  complimented  the 
dowagers  as  he  went  along,  and  from  woman  to 
woman,  and  flattery  to  flattery,  he  reached,  at  last, 
the  empty  place  his  quick  eye  had  seen  beside  the 
unknown  lady.  At  the  risk  of  being  clawed  by  the 
griffins  of  the  candelabrum  he  maintained  that  posi- 
tion to  Martial's  great  displeasure.  Too  worldly  wise 
to  address  at  once  the  little  blue  lady,  who  was  on  his 
right,  the  colonel  began  operations  by  remarking  to  a 
tall  and  rather  plain  lady  who  sat  on  his  left:  — 

"'This,  madame,  has  been  a  very  fine  ball!  What 
luxury!  So  lively!  On  my  honor,  all  the  women 
present  are  handsome.  If  you  are  not  dancing  it 
must  be  that  you  don't  like  it." 

This  insipid  conversation  begun  by  the  colonel  had, 
of  course,  no  other  object  than  that  of  drawing  into  it 
his  right-hand  neighbor,  who,  silent  and  preoccupied, 
paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  him.    The  officer  held 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  301 

in  reserve  a  number  of  phrases  which  he  meant  to  end 
with,  "And  you,  madarne?"  on  which  he  counted 
much.  But  he  was  strangely  surprised,  on  looking 
round,  to  see  tears  in  the  lady's  eyes,  which  appeared 
to  be  fastened  on  Madame  de  Vaudremont. 

"Madame  is,  no  doubt,  married?"  he  ventured, 
presently,  to  say,   in  a  hesitating  voice. 

"Yes,  monsieur,"  replied  the  lady. 

"And  your  husband  is  here?  " 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"Then  why,  madame,  if  I  may  ask,  do  you  stay  in 
this  one  place?     Is  it  from  coquetry?" 

The  lady  smiled  rather  sadly. 

"Grant  me  the  honor  of  the  next  quadrille,  and  I 
will  certainly  not  bring  you  back  to  this  seat,"  said 
the  colonel.  "I  see  an  empty  sofa  now  near  the  fire- 
place ;  let  us  take  it.  When  the  mania  of  the  day  is 
for  royalty,  why  should  you  abdicate  the  rank  of  queen 
of  this  ball  to  which  your  beauty  entitles  you?" 

"Monsieur,  I  shall  not  dance." 

The  curt  responses  of  the  lady  were  so  discouraging 
that  the  colonel  began  to  think  he  should  be  forced  to 
abandon  the  position.  Martial,  who  guessed  his  re- 
quest and  the  refusal  he  received,  began  to  laugh  and 
to  stroke  his  chin  with  a  hand  on  which  the  ring  he 
wore  shone  brilliantly. 

"What  are  you  laughing  at?"  asked  Madame  de 
Vaudremont. 

"The  poor  colonel's  failure;  he  has  just  made  such 
a  fiasco!  " 

"I  asked  you  to  take  off  that  ring,"  said  the  coun- 
tess, suddenly  interrupting  him. 


302  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 


a- 


I  did  n't  hear  you." 

;If  you  can't  hear,  I  observe  that  you  can  see 
everything,  Monsieur  le  comte,"  retorted  Madame  de 
Vaudremont,  in  a  piqued  tone. 

"There's  a  young  man  who  is  wearing  a  very  fine 
diamond,"  said  the  little  blue  lady,  suddenly  address- 
ing the  colonel. 

"Magnificent!  "  he  replied.  "That  young  man  is 
the  BaroD  Martial  de  la  Roche-Hugon,  one  of  my  most 
intimate  friends." 

"Thank  you  for  telHng  me  his  name,"  she  replied. 
"He  seems  very  amiable." 

"Yes,  but  rather  thoughtless." 

"One  might  almost  think  he  was  on  close  terms 
with  Madame  de  Vaudremont,"  she  said,  in  a  ques- 
tioning tone,  and  looking  into  the  colonel's  eyes, 
interrogatively. 

"On  the  very  closest,"  he  replied. 

The  lady  turned  pale. 

"Heavens!"  thought  the  soldier,  "she  really  does 
love  that  devil  of  a  Martial." 

"I  thought  Madame  de  Vaudremont  was  receiving 
the  attentions  of  the  Comte  de  Soulanges  ?  "  resumed 
the  young  woman,  recovering,  apparently,  from  the 
inward  emotion  which  had  paled  her  cheek. 

"Yes,  but  the  countess  has  been  deserting  him  of 
late.  You  must  have  noticed  poor  Soulanges  when 
he  came  in  with  her  just  now;  he  tries  hard  not  to 
believe  in  her  desertion." 

"I  saw  him,"  said  the  blue  lady;  then  she  added, 
"I  thank  you,"  in  a  tone  of  voice  equivalent  to  a 
dismissal. 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  303 

At  this  moment  the  quadrille  was  just  coming  to 
an  end,  and  the  colonel,  disappointed,  had  only  time 
to  beat  a  retreat,  muttering  to  himself  by  way  of 
consolation,  "Well,  at  any  rate,  she  is  married." 

uHa,  ha,  courageous  cuirassier,"  cried  Martial, 
dragging;  the  colonel  to  a  window  to  breathe  some 
fresh  air.     "How  far  have  you  advanced,  hey?" 

"She  is  married,  my  dear  fellow." 

"What  has  that  got  to  do  with  it?  " 

"The  deuce!  wiry,  I 'm  a  moral  man,"  replied  the 
colonel.  "I  only  take  an  interest  in  women  I  can 
marry.  Besides,  Martial,  she  notified  me,  formally, 
that  she  did  not  dance." 

"Colonel,  will  you  bet  your  dapple-gray  horse 
against  one  hundred  napoleons  that  she  will  not 
dance  this  evening  with  me?" 

"Yes,  that  I  will!"  cried  the  colonel,  striking  his 
hand  into  that  of  the  dandy.  "Meantime  I  '11  see 
Soulanges;  I  think  he  must  know  the  little  lady,  for 
she  seems  to  take  an  interest  in  him." 

"Ah!  my  old  fellow,  you've  lost,"  cried  Martial, 
laughing.  "My  eyes  have  met  hers;  and  I  know 
what  is  what.  Dear  colonel,  you  won't  be  vexed  with 
me  if  I  dance  with  her  after  she  refused  you  ?  " 

"No,  no!  he  laughs  well  who  laughs  last.  I'm  a 
bold  player,  and  a  good  enemy.  I  '11  give  you  a 
hint,  Martial,  that  she  likes  diamonds." 

As  he  said  this,  the  two  friends  parted.  Montcornet 
went  toward  the  card-room,  where  he  saw  the  Comte 
de  Soulanges  sitting  at  a  bouillotte  table.  Though 
nothing  existed  between  the  two  colonels  more  than 
the   ordinary   friendship   of   soldiers,    based    on    the 


304  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

perils  of  war  and  the  duties  of  their  profession,  the 
colonel  of  cuirassiers  was  painfully  affected  on  seeing 
the  colonel  of  artillery  engaged  in  an  occupation  which 
might  ruin  him.  Piles  of  gold  and  bank-notes  showed 
the  fury  of  the  game.  A  circle  of  silent  men  sur- 
rounded the  players  at  the  table.  Certain  words  like 
"pass;  play;  hold;  a  thousand  louis;  held,"  echoed 
about  the  room,  but  to  look  at  the  five  persons  motion- 
less at  the  table,  a  spectator  would  have  said  that 
their  lips  had  not  moved,  and  they  had  spoken  with 
their  eyes  only. 

When  the  colonel,  alarmed  at  the  count's  paleness, 
approached  him,  he  was  winning.  The  Marechal  Due 
d'Isomberg,  and  Keller  the  celebrated  banker  rose 
from  the  table  completely  stripped.  Soulanges  be- 
came still  more  gloomy  as  he  gathered  in  the  mass  of 
gold  and  notes,  which  he  did  not  count ;  a  bitter  dis- 
dain seemed  to  curl  his  lip,  as  if  he  threatened  fortune 
rather  than  thanked  her  for  such  favors. 

"Courage,"  said  the  colonel;  "courage,  Soulanges." 
Then,  thinking  to  do  him  a  true  service  by  enticing 
him  away  from  the  card-table,  he  added:  "Come,  I  've 
some  good  news  to  tell  you  —  but  on  one  condition." 
"What  condition?  "  asked  Soulanges. 
"That  of  answering  a  question  I  shall  ask  you." 
The  count  rose  abruptly,  tied  his  winnings  care- 
lessly in  the  handkerchief  he  had  been  twisting  con- 
vulsively, and  joined  the  colonel.     His  face  was  so 
savage  that  none  of  the  other  players  dared  complain 
that  he  left  them.     Their  own  faces  even  expanded  as 
soon  as  the  sulky  and  sullen  head  was  removed  from 
the  luminous  circle  which  a  bouillotte  lamp  casts  upon 
a  table. 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  305 

"Those  devils  of  soldiers  understand  each  other  like 
thieves  at  a  fair,"  said  a  diplomatist,  in  a  low  voice, 
taking  the  count's  seat. 

"My  dear  Soulanges,"  said  Montcornet,  drawing 
the  count  into  a  corner,  "the  Emperor  praised  you 
very  much  this  morning,  and  your  promotion  to  the 
marshalship  is  beyond  a  doubt." 

"The  master  does  n't  like  the  artillery." 

"No;  but  he  adores  nobility,  and  you  are  a  ci- 
devant !  The  master,"  continued  Montcornet,  "said 
that  those  who  had  married  in  Paris  during  the  cam- 
paign were  not  to  be  considered  as  under  a  cloud. 
Well  ?  " 

The  count  seemed  not  to  understand  this  speech. 

"Now,  in  return  for  all  that,"  resumed  the  colonel, 
"I  want  you  to  tell  me  if  you  know  a  charming  little 
woman  who  is  sitting  over  there  by  the  candelabrum." 

At  these  words  the  count's  eyes  flashed,  and  he 
seized  the  colonel's  hand  with  extreme  violence. 

"My  dear  general,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  was 
noticeably  changed,  "if  any  man  but  you  had  asked 
me  that  question  I  would  have  split  his  skull  with  this 
mass  of  gold.  Leave  me,  I  entreat.  I  have  more 
desire  to  blow  out  my  brains  than  to  —  I  hate  every- 
thing, and  every  one.  I  am  going.  This  gayety,  this 
music,  this  crowd  of  stupid  laughing  faces  kill  me  —  " 

"My  poor  friend!"  said  Montcornet,  in  a  gentle 
voice,  "you  are  excited.  What  will  you  say  if  I  tell 
you  that  Martial  cares  so  little  for  Madame  de  Vau- 
dremont  that  he  has  fallen  in  love  with  that  little  lady 
in  blue?  " 

If  he  speaks  to  her,"  cried  Soulanges,  stuttering 

20 


it 


u 


306  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

with  rage,  "I  '11  make  him  as  flat  as  his  own  portfolio, 
whether  he  's  in  the  Emperor's  inner  circle  or  not." 

So  saying,  the  count  dropped,  as  if  annihilated,  on 
the  sofa  to  which  the  colonel  had  brought  him.  The 
latter  slowly  withdrew ;  he  saw  that  Soulanges  was  a 
prey  to  anger  much  too  violent  for  the  talk  or  jests 
of  a  mere  acquaintance  to  calm  him. 

When  Montcornet  re-entered  the  great  ball-room, 
Madame  de  Vaudremont  was  the  first  person  on  whom 
his  eyes  rested,  and  he  noticed  on  her  face,  usually 
very  calm,  the  unmistakable  signs  of  an  ill-disguised 
agitation ;  a  chair  being  vacant  beside  her,  the  colonel 
sat  down  in  it. 

I  '11  wager  that  3tou  are  annoyed,"  he  said. 
A  mere  trifle,  general.  I  wanted  to  get  away  from 
here;  I  have  promised  to  be  at  the  ball  of  the  Grand- 
duchess  of  Berg,  and  I  must  go  first  to  the  Princesse 
de  Wagram.  Monsieur  de  la  Roche-Hugon,  who 
knows  that,  and  whom  I  asked  to  escort  me,  is  amus- 
ing himself  with  gallant  speeches  to  those  dowagers." 

"That  is  not  altogether  the  subject  of  your  annoy- 
ance. I  '11  bet  a  hundred  louis  that  you  will  stay  here 
the  rest  of  the  evening." 

"Oh!  what  impertinence! " 

"So  I'm  right,  ami?" 

"Well,  well;  then  tell  me  what  I  am  thinking  of," 
said  the  countess,  giving  a  little  tap  with  her  fan  on 
the  colonel's  fingers.  "I  am  capable  of  rewarding 
you  if  you  guess  right." 

"I  can't  accept  that  challenge,  for  I  am  too  sure 
that  I  am  right." 

"What  presumption! 


» 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  307 

"You  dislike  seeing  Martial  at  the  feet  of  —  " 

"Of  whom?"  asked  the  countess,  affecting  surprise. 

"That  candelabrum,"  replied  the  colonel,  motion- 
ing toward  the  beautiful  unknown,  and  looking  at  the 
countess  with  embarrassing  attention. 

"You  've  guessed  right,"  replied  the  coquettish 
creature,  hiding  her  face  behind  her  fan,  with  which 
she  began  to  play.  "Madame  de  Lansac,  who,  as  you 
know,  is  as  malicious  as  an  old  monkey,"  she  con- 
tinued, after  a  moment's  silence,  "has  just  told  me 
that  Monsieur  de  la  Roche-Hugon  runs  serious  danger 
in  courting  that  mysterious  lady,  who  has  appeared 
here  to-night  like  a  kill-joy.  I  'd  rather  see  death 
itself  than  that  face  as  cruelly  pale  and  beautiful  as 
a  vision.  I  am  convinced  she  is  my  evil  genius. 
Madame  de  Lansac,"  she  continued,  after  making  a 
gesture  of  annoyance,  "who  goes  to  a  ball  to  spy  upon 
everyone  while  pretending  to  be  half  asleep,  has  made 
me  very  uneasy.  Martial  shall  pay  dear  for  the  game 
he  is  playing  with  me.  Advise  him,  colonel,  inas- 
much as  he  is  your  friend,  not  to  trouble  me  in  this 
way." 

"I  have  just  seen  a  man  who  proposes  to  do  noth- 
ing less  than  blow  out  Martial's  brains  if  he  says  a 
word  to  the  little  blue  lady.  But  I  know  Martial; 
such  dangers  only  encourage  him.  Besides,  there  's 
something  else ;  he  and  I  have  bet  —  " 

Here  the  colonel  lowered  his  voice. 

"Is  that  really  true?"  asked  the  countess. 

"Upon  my  honor." 

"Thanks,  dear  colonel,"  replied  Madame  de  Vaudre- 
mont,  giving  him  a  glance  full  of  coquetry. 


08  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 


"Will  you  do  me  the  honor  to  dance  with  me?  " 

"  Yes,  but  the  second  quadrille.  While  this  one  is 
being  danced  I  must  find  out  more  about  this  intrigue ; 
I  must  know  who  the  little  blue  lady  is.  She  looks 
clever." 

The  colonel,  seeing  that  Madame  de  Vaudremont 
wished  to  be  alone,  departed,  well  satisfied  with  the 
manner  in  which  he  had  opeued  his  attack. 

We  often  meet  at  balls  and  parties  women  like 
Madame  de  Lansac,  who  seem  to  be  there  like  old 
mariners  standing  on  a  jetty  to  watch  young  sailors 
struggling  against  the  storm.  At  this  moment  the 
old  lady,  who  seemed  to  take  an  interest  in  the  per- 
sonages of  our  scene,  could  easily  detect  the  annoyance 
under  which  the  countess  was  laboring.  That  young 
coquette  might  flirt  her  fan  graciously,  smile  on  the 
men  who  bowed  to  her,  and  practise  all  the  tricks  a 
woman  employs  to  hide  emotion,  but  the  dowager, 
one  of  the  most  malirieuses  and  perspicacious  old 
duchesses  which  the  eighteenth  century  had  bequeathed 
to  the  nineteenth,  could  read  to  the  bottom  of  her 
heart  and  thought.  The  old  lady  seemed  to  recognize 
with  fellow-feeling  the  almost  imperceptible  motions 
which  betrayed  the  workings  of  the  young  woman's 
soul.  The  slightest  frown  upon  that  pure  white  brow, 
the  least  visible  curving  of  the  coral  lips  were  as 
plainly  read  by  the  duchess  as  the  print  of  a  book. 
From  the  depth  of  her  sofa,  which  her  gown  volumi- 
nously filled,  this  coquette  emeritus  (though  all  the 
while  talking  with  a  diplomate  who  sought  her  society 
for  the  sake  of  the  anecdotes  she  told  so  well)  was 
admiring   her  old   self  in   the  charming  widow;   she 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  309 

liked  her,  seeing  how  well  she  carried  her  vexation 
and  the  blow  to  her  heart. 

Madame  de  Vaudremont  did  really  feel  as  much 
pain  as  she  feigned  gayety.  She  had  thought  she 
found  in  Martial  a  man  of  talent,  on  whom  she  could 
rely  to  embellish  her  life  with  the  sweets  of  power. 
This  evening  she  had  seen  her  mistake,  a  mistake  as 
injurious  to  her  reputation  in  society  as  it  was  wound- 
ing to  her  self-love.  In  her,  as  in  all  women  of  that 
particular  period,  the  suddenness  of  passions  increased 
their  ardor.  Souls  that  live  much  and  fast  do  not 
suffer  less  than  those  that  spend  themselves  on  a 
single  affection.  The  fancy  of  the  countess  for  Mar- 
tial was  recent,  to  be  sure,  but  the  most  inept  of  sur- 
geons knows  that  the  amputation  of  a  well  limb  is 
more  painful  than  that  of  a  diseased  one.  There  was 
future  ambition  to  be  gratified  in  her  liking  for  Mar- 
tial, whereas  her  preceding  coquetry  with  Soulanges 
had,  of  course,  no  real  object,  and  was  rather  poisoned 
by  his  evident  contrition. 

The  old  duchess,  who  was  watching  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  speak  to  the  countess,  now  hastened  to  dis- 
miss her  ambassador;  for,  in  presence  of  quarrelling 
lovers,  all  other  interests  pale,  even  for  an  old  woman. 
Madame  de  Lansac  began  her  attack  by  casting  a  most 
sardonic  glance  at  Madame  de  Vaudremont,  which 
made  the  young  coquette  tremble  in  dread  of  seeing 
her  fate  in  the  dowager's  hands.  There  are  looks  that 
pass  from  woman  to  woman  like  torches  brought  upon 
the  stage  in  the  crisis  of  a  tragedy.  Persons  must 
have  known  that  old  duchess  to  appreciate  the  terror 
which  the  play  of  her  countenance  now  inspired  in  the 


310  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

countess.  Madame  de  Lansac  was  tall.  Her  features 
made  one  think,  "There  's  a  woman  who  was  handsome 
in  her  day."  She  covered  her  cheeks  with  so  much 
rouge  that  her  wrinkles  scarcely  showed ;  but  her  eyes, 
instead  of  receiving  additional  lustre  from  this  mass 
of  carmine,  seemed  only  the  more  haggard.  She  wore 
an  enormous  number  of  diamonds,  and  dressed  with 
enough  taste  not  to  seem  ridiculous.  Her  pointed 
nose  was  epigrammatic.  A  set  of  well-preserved  teeth 
gave  to  her  mouth  a  sarcastic  grin  which  recalled  that 
of  Voltaire.  But  the  exquisite  politeness  of  her  man- 
ners softened  the  satirical  turn  of  her  ideas  so  much 
that  she  was  never  accused  of  actual  malignancy. 

Her  old  gray  eyes  now  brightened,  and  she  flung 
a  triumphant  look,  accompanied  by  a  smile  which 
seemed  to  say:  "I  told  you  so!  "  across  the  room  to 
the  mysterious  beauty  sitting  beneath  the  candela- 
brum, to  whose  cheek  that  look  brought  a  flush  of 
hope.  This  evident  alliance  between  Madame  de  Lan- 
sac and  the  blue  lady  could  not,  of  course,  escape  so 
practised  an  eye  as  that  of  Madame  de  Vaudremont, 
who  saw  a  mystery  behind  it,  which  she  suddenly 
resolved  to  penetrate. 

At  this  moment  the  Baron  de  la  Roche-Hugon,  hav- 
ing questioned  all  the  dowagers  without  ascertaining 
the  name  of  the  charming  unknown,  finally  appealed 
in  despair  to  the  Comtesse  de  Gondreville,  and 
received  from  her  the  following  insufficient  reply :  — 

"That  is  a  lady  whom  the  old  Duchesse  de  Lansac 
introduced  to  me." 

Turning  to  the  sofa  on  which  sat  that  ancient  lady 
the  master  of  petitions  intercepted  the  glance  of  intel- 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  311 

ligence  she  cast  upon  the  fair  unknown,  and,  although 
he  stood  rather  ill  in  her  graces,  he  determined  to 
accost  her.  Observing  the  approach  of  the  lively 
baron,  the  duchess  smiled  with  sardonic  mischief,  and 
looked  at  Madame  de  Vaudremont  with  an  air  which 
made  Montcornet,  who  was  watching  them,  laugh. 

"If  that  old  bohemian  takes  a  friendly  tone," 
thought  the  baron,  "she  means  to  play  me  some  ill- 
natured  trick.  Madame,"  he  said,  "I  am  told  you  are 
here  to  watch  a  precious  treasure." 

"Do  you  take  me  for  a  dragon?"  asked  the  old 
lady.  "But  of  whom  are  you  speaking?"  she  added, 
in  a  honeyed  tone  which  encouraged  Martial. 

"Of  that  little  unknown  lady  whom  the  jealousy  of 
all  these  coquettes  has  hemmed  into  that  corner.  You 
know  her  family,  of  course  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  the  duchess;  "but  what  have  you  to 
do  with  a  provincial  heiress,  married  a  year  or  two,  a 
girl  very  well  born,  whom  none  of  you  know,  and  who 
never  goes  into  society?  " 

"Why  does  n't  she  dance?  She  is  very  handsome. 
Will  you  make  a  treaty  of  peace  with  me  ?  If  you  will 
deign  to  tell  me  all  that  I  want  to  know,  I  swear  to 
you  that  a  request  for  the  restitution  of  the  Navarreins 
woods  by  the  Special  Domain  shall  be  warmly  urged 
upon  the  Emperor." 

The  younger  branch  of  the  house  of  Navarreins 
quarters  the  arms  of  Lansac,  namely:  azure  cottized 
argent,  flanked  with  six  lance-heads  in  pale ;  and  the 
liaison  of  the  old  dame  with  Louis  XV.  had  given 
her  husband  the  title  of  duke.  Now,  inasmuch  as  the 
Navarreins  had  not  yet  returned  to  France,  the  young 


312  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

master  of  petitions  was  proposing  nothing  less  than  a 
piece  of  treachery  to  the  duchess,  by  suggesting  a 
claim  to  property  belonging  to  the  elder  branch. 

u Monsieur,"  she  said,  with  deceptive  gravity,  "fetch 
me  the  Comtesse  de  Vaudremont.  I  promise  to  reveal 
to  her  the  mystery  that  seems  to  make  your  unknown 
lady  so  interesting.  See,  the  other  men  in  the  room 
are  as  curious  about  her  as  you.  All  eyes  are  on  that 
candelabrum  near  which  my  protegee  has  modestly 
placed  herself;  she  is  receiving  homages  that  the  rest 
of  the  women  are  trying  to  snatch  away  from  her. 
Lucky  will  he  be  who  persuades  her  to  dance  witli 
him  —  " 

There  she  interrupted  herself,  and  empaled  the 
Comtesse  de  Vaudremont  with  one  of  those  glances 
which  say  so  plainly,  "We  are  talking  of  you."  Then 
she  added,  "I  think  you  would  rather  hear  the  name 
of  the  lady  from  the  lips  of  your  beautiful  countess 
than  from  mine." 

The  manner  of  the  old  duchess  was  so  provocative 
that  Madame  de  Vaudremont  rose  and  came  over  to 
her,  taking  the  chair  which  Martial  offered.  Without 
paying  any  heed  to  the  young  man,  she  said  to  the 
old  lady,  with  a  laugh :  — 

"I  can  see  that  you  are  talking  of  me;  but  there 
my  intelligence  stops ;  I  don't  know  whether  you  are 
saying  good  or  evil." 

Madame  de  Lansac  pressed  the  young  woman's 
pretty  hand  in  her  withered  and  wrinkled  claw  as  she 
whispered,  in  a  tone  of  compassion,  "Poor  child!  " 

The  two  women  looked  at  each  other.  Madame  de 
Vaudremont  perceived  that  Martial  was  in  the  way, 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  313 

and  she  dismissed  him  with  a  curt  and  imperious, 
u Leave  us!  " 

The  master  of  petitions,  not  at  all  pleased  to  see 
his  countess  under  the  influence  of  the  dangerous  sybil 
who  had  summoned  her,  gave  her  one  of  those  mascu- 
line looks,  all-powerful  to  a  blinded  heart,  but  ridic- 
ulous to  a  woman  when  she  begins  to  judge  the  man 
with  whom  she  has  been  seriously  inclined  to  fall  in 
love. 

"Do  you  assume  to  mimic  the  Emperor?  "  she  said, 
turning  her  head  half  round  to  give  the  master  of 
petitions  an  ironical  glance. 

Martial  had  too  much  knowledge  of  the  world,  and 
too  much  shrewdness  and  calculation  to  risk  an  open 
rupture  with  a  woman  who  stood  well  at  court,  and 
in  whose  marriage  the  Emperor  took  an  interest.  He 
counted,  moreover,  on  the  jealousy  he  expected  to 
awaken  in  her  as  the  best  means  of  discovering  the 
reason  of  her  sudden  coldness ;  he  therefore  departed, 
the  more  willingly  because  a  new  quadrille  was  putting 
everybody  in  motion.  Crossing  his  arms,  he  leaned 
against  a  console  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room, 
where  he  could  watch  attentively  the  interview  of  the 
two  ladies.  From  time  to  time,  he  followed  with  his 
eyes  the  glances  they  both  cast  on  the  blue  unknown. 
Comparing  the  countess  with  this  new  beauty  whom 
mystery  was  rendering  so  attractive,  the  baron  fell 
into  a  series  of  those  odious  calculations  which  are 
customary  with  men  of  gallantry;  he  wavered  between 
a  fortune  to  be  gained,  and  a  caprice  to  be  satisfied. 
The  reflection  of  the  lights  brought  out  so  strongly  his 
vexed  and  sombre  face  upon  the  white  moire  draperies 


314  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

which  his  black  hair  brushed,  that  he  might  have 
been  compared  at  that  moment  to  an  evil  genius. 
From  afar  an  observer  would  have  said:  "There's 
another  poor  devil  who  does  n't  seem  to  be  amusing 
himself." 

The  colonel,  on  the  other  hand,  his  right  shoulder 
resting  lightly  against  the  casing  of  the  door  between 
the  card-room  and  the  ball-room,  was  laughing  to 
himself  behind  his  ample  moustache.  He  enjoyed  the 
pleasure  of  watching  the  tumult  of  the  ball ;  he  saw  a 
hundred  pretty  heads  swaying  to  the  motions  of  the 
dance;  he  could  read  on  some  faces,  as  on  those  of 
the  countess  and  his  friend  Martial,  the  secrets  of 
their  agitation.  Then,  turning  his  head,  he  asked 
himself  what  connection  there  could  be  between  the 
gloomy  humor  of  the  Comte  de  Soulanges,  still  sitting 
where  he  left  him,  and  the  plaintive  little  lady  on 
whose  face  what  seemed  to  be  the  joys  of  hope  and 
the  agony  of  involuntary  terror  appeared  alternately. 
Montcornet  stood  there  like  the  king  of  the  feast;  he 
obtained  in  that  moving  picture  a  perfect  view  of 
society,  and  he  laughed  as  he  gathered  in  and  replied 
to  the  self-interested  smiles  of  a  hundred  brilliant 
women,  —  a  colonel  of  the  Imperial  Guard,  a  post 
which  carried  with  it  the  rank  of  a  brigadier-general, 
was  certainly  one  of  the  finest  matches  in  the  army. 

It  was  now  about  midnight.  The  conversations, 
play,  dance,  coquetry,  self-interests,  mischief-making, 
and  projects  had  severally  reached  that  pitch  of  ex- 
citement which  leads  young  men  to  exclaim:  "What 
a  fine  ball!" 

"My  dear  little   angel,"  Madame  de  Lansac   was 


\ 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  315 

saying  to  the  countess,  "you  are  at  an  age  when  I 
committed  many  mistakes.  I  saw  you  suffering  tor- 
ture just  now,  and  it  came  into  my  mind  to  give  you 
a  little  advice.  To  make  mistakes  at  twenty-two  is 
to  spoil  our  future ;  it  is  like  tearing  a  gown  we  intend 
to  put  on.  My  dear,  we  often  don't  learn  till  too  late 
how  to  wear  our  gown  without  either  tearing  or  rump- 
ling it.  Continue,  dear  heart,  to  make  yourself  clever 
enemies,  and  let  men  without  principle  be  your  friends, 
and  you  '11  see  what  a  pretty  sort  of  life  you  '11  lead 
some  day." 

"Ah!  madame,  a  woman  finds  it  very  difficult  to  be 
happy,  doesn't  she?"  exclaimed  the  countess,  vehe- 
mently. 

"My  dear,  she  should,  at  your  age,  know  how  to 
choose  between  pleasures  and  happiness.  You  wish 
to  marry  Martial,  who  is  neither  fool  enough  to  make 
a  good  husband  nor  passionate  enough  to  be  a  lover. 
He  has  debts,  my  child ;  he  is  a  man  who  will  squan- 
der your  fortune;  but  that  would  n't  signify  if  he 
made  you  happy.  He  won't  make  you  happy.  Don't 
you  see  how  old  he  is  already.  He  is  a  broken  man ; 
he  is  living  on  his  own  remains.  In  three  years 
there  '11  be  nothing  left  of  him.  Then  he  '11  take  to 
ambition.  He  may  succeed,  but  I  don't  believe  it. 
What  is  he?  A  trimmer;  who  has  a  wonderful  sense 
of  current  affairs,  and  talks  agreeably;  but  he  is  far 
too  conceited  to  have  real  merit;  he  '11  never  go  far. 
Look  at  him!  can't  you  read  on  his  forehead  at  this 
very  moment  that  he  is  not  thinking  of  you  as  a 
young  and  charming  woman,  but  of  the  two  millions 
which  you  possess?     He  doesn't  love  you,  my  dear; 


316  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

he  calculates  you  as  he  would  a  matter  of  business. 
If  you  want  to  marry,  take  an  older  man  who  has  won 
the  consideration  of  the  world  and  is  half-way  on  in  his 
career.  A  widow  ought  not  to  make  her  second  mar- 
riage a  mere  love-tale.  Mice  are  not  caught  in  the 
same  trap  twice.  Now,  a  new  marriage  ought  to  be, 
in  its  way,  a  speculation  on  your  side;  you  ought, 
in  remarrying,  to  have  a  prospect,  at  least,  of  being 
Madame  la  marechale." 

The  eyes  of  both  women  fixed  themselves  at  that 
moment,  spontaneously,  on  the  noble  figure  of  General 
Montcornet. 

"If,  on  the  other  hand,  you  prefer  to  play  the  diffi- 
cult role  of  a  coquette  and  not  marry  at  all,"  con- 
tinued the  duchess,  with  much  kindliness,  "ah!  my 
poor  little  girl,  you  '11  know,  better  than  most  women, 
how  to  heap  up  the  clouds  of  a  tempest  and  dissipate 
them.  But,  I  conjure  you,  never  make  it  your  pride 
and  pleasure  to  disturb  the  peace  of  a  home,  to  destroy 
the  union  of  families,  and  the  happiness  of  women 
who  are  happy.  I  played  that  dangerous  game,  my 
child.  Good  God!  for  a  triumph  of  vanity  women 
will  murder  the  hearts  of  some  poor  virtuous  creat- 
ures, —  for  there  are,  in  this  world,  virtuous  women, 
—  and  create  for  themselves  eternal  hatreds.  Too  late 
I  learned,  as  the  Duke  of  Alba  said,  that  a  salmon 
is  worth  a  thousand  frogs.  Believe  me,  a  true  love 
gives  far  more  enjoyment  than  the  ephemeral  passions 
which  we  like  to  excite.  Well,  I  came  here  to-night 
to  preach  this  to  you.  Yes,  you  are  the  cause  of  my 
apparition  in  this  salon,  which,  if  you  Jll  excuse  the 
word,  stinks  of  the  populace.     In  the  olden  time,  my 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  317 

dear,  we  might  receive  such  people  in  a  boudoir,  but 
in  a  salon  —  r'y !  Why  do  you  look  at  me  with  that 
astonished  air?  Now  listen  to  me,"  resumed  the  old 
lady.  "If  you  want  to  play  with  men,  endeavor  to 
convulse  the  hearts  of  those  only  whose  life  is  free, 
those  who  have  no  duties  to  perform.  The  others 
never  pardon  us  the  wrongs  we  make  them  commit. 
Profit  by  that  maxim  of  my  old  experience.  Poor 
Soulanges,  for  instance,  whose  head  you  have  turned, 
and  whom  for  the  last  few  months  you  have  completely 
intoxicated,  heaven  knows  how!  well,  do  you  know 
what  you  have  been  destroying?  —  his  whole  life.  He 
has  been  married  two  years ;  he  is  adored  by  a  charm- 
ing little  creature  whom  he  loves  and  yet  betrays; 
she  lives  in  tears  and  bitter  silence.  Soulanges  has 
moments  of  the  sharpest  remorse,  all  the  sharper  that 
he  has  not  found  much  comfort  in  his  pleasure  — 
you  little  trickster,  you  have  betrayed  him!  Well, 
now  come  and  see  your  work." 

The  old  duchess  took  the  hand  of  the  young  countess 
and  they  both  rose. 

"See,"  said  Madame  de  Lansac,  pointing  out  to  her 
compauion  by  a  glance  the  pale  and  trembling  lady 
beneath  the  candelabrum,  "that  is  my  great-niece, 
the  Comtesse  de  Soulanges.  She  has  yielded  to  my 
entreaties,  and  has  come  here  to-night  from  a  sad- 
dened home,  where  the  presence  of  her  child  is  but  a 
feeble  consolation  of  her  sorrow.  Do  you  see  her? 
You  think  her  charming?  Well,  dear  heart,  think 
what  she  might  be  if  happiness  and  love  were  glowing 
in  that  face  that  is  now  fading." 

The   countess  silently   turned   away  her  head,   and 


318  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

seemed  lost  in  grave  reflections.  The  duchess  took 
her  to  the  door  of  the  card-room,  and  there,  having 
looked  within  as  if  seeking  some  one,  she  said  to  the 
young  coquette,  in  a  deep  tone  of  voice,  "And  there 
is  Soulanges !  " 

The  countess  shuddered  as  she  saw  in  the  least- 
lighted  corner  of  the  room  the  pale,  drawn  face  of  the 
young  man  lying  back  on  a  sofa;  the  dejection  of  his 
attitude  and  the  gloom  upon  his  brow  proved  only  too 
plainly  his  inward  suffering.  The  players  went  and 
came  before  him,  but  he  paid  no  more  attention  to 
them  than  a  dead  man  might.  The  picture  thus  pre- 
sented of  the  sorrowing  wife  and  the  gloomy,  dejected 
husband,  parted  one  from  the  other  in  the  midst  of 
this  fete  like  two  halves  of  a  tree  struck  by  lightning, 
had  something  in  it  that  seemed  prophetic  to  the  coun- 
tess; was  it  the  image  of  a  future  vengeance?  Her 
heart  was  not  so  spoiled  as  yet  that  kindliuess  and 
right  feeling  were  banished  from  it.  She  pressed  the 
hand  of  the  old  duchess  and  thanked  her  with  a  smile 
that  had  a  certain  childlike  charm. 

"Dear  heart,"  said  the  old  woman,  "remember  in 
future  that  we  can  repulse  the  homage  of  men  as  easily 
as  we  attract  it."  Then,  as  she  passed  Montcornet, 
she  said,  under  her  breath,  "She  is  yours  if  you  are 
not  a  ninny." 

The  words  were  whispered  in  the  colonel's  ear  while 
the  beautiful  countess  was  still  absorbed  in  the  com- 
passion inspired  by  the  appearance  of  Soulanges, 
whom  she  really  loved  sufficiently  to  wish  to  make  him 
happy.  She  began  to  think  of  employing  the  irresistible 
power  of  her  fascinations  to  send  him  back  to  his  wife. 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  319 

"Oh!  how  I  will  preach  to  him!"  she  said  to 
Madame  de  Lansac. 

"Do  nothing  of  the  kind,  my  dear!  "  cried  the 
duchess,  regaining  her  sofa.  "Choose  a  good  hus- 
band and  shut  your  door  to  my  nephew.  Don't  even 
offer  him  your  friendship.  Believe  me,  my  child,  a 
woman  does  not  willingly  receive  from  another  woman 
the  heart  of  her  husband ;  she  wants  to  win  him  back 
herself.  In  bringing  my  niece  here  I  think  I  gave  her 
an  excellent  means  of  regaining  her  husband's  affec- 
tion. What  I  ask  of  you,  as  your  co-operative  share, 
is  to  fascinate  the  colonel." 

And  she  nodded  in  the  direction  of  Martial's  friend; 
the  countess  laughed. 

"Well,  madame,  do  you  at  last  know  the  name  of 
that  mysterious  lady  ?  "  asked  the  baron,  in  a  piqued 
tone,   as  soon  as  the  countess  was  alone. 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Madame  de  Vauclremont,  looking 
straight  at  the  master  of  petitions. 

Her  face  expressed  mischief  as  well  as  gayety. 
The  smile  which  flickered  on  her  lips  and  dimpled  her 
cheek,  and  the  liquid  light  in  her  eyes  were  like  the 
dancing  will-o'-the-wisps  which  decoy  a  traveller. 
Martial,  thinking  himself  beloved,  fell  into  that  self- 
satisfied  attitude  which  a  man  so  complacently  assumes 
toward  the  woman  who  loves  him,  and  said,  with  his 
natural  fatuity :  — 

"You  will  not  be  angry  with  me,  will  you,  if  I 
seem  to  attach  great  value  to  the  knowledge  of  that 
lady's  name?" 

"And  you  must  not  be  angry,"  replied  Madame  de 
Vaudremont,  "if  I  refuse  to  tell  it  to  you,  and  forbid 


320  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

you  to  make  the  slightest  advance  toward  that  young 
lady.     You  might  risk  your  life." 

"Madame,  to  lose  your  good  graces  is  to  lose  more 
than  life." 

"Martial,"  said  the  countess,  severely,  "that  is 
Madame  de  Soulanges;  the  husband  will  blow  your 
brains  out  —  if  you  have  any." 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  the  dandy;  "the  husband  lets 
the  man  who  has  won  your  heart  go  free,  but  wants 
to  fight  him  on  his  wife's  account!  What  a  reversal 
of  principle !  I  entreat  you,  allow  me  one  dance  with 
that  little  woman.  You  will  thus  gain  proof  of  how 
little  love  his  icy  heart  has  ever  felt  for  you;  for  if 
Soulanges  is  angry  when  I  dance  with  his  wife 
after  —  " 

"She  is  married,  I  tell  you." 

"Obstacle  the  more  which  I  shall  have  the  pleasure 
of  overcoming." 

"But  she  loves  her  husband." 

"  Absurd  objection !  " 

"Ah!  "  said  the  countess,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "you 
men  punish  us  for  our  faults  and  our  repentances 
also." 

"Don't  be  angry,"  said  Martial,  hastily.  "Oh!  I 
entreat  you,  forgive  me.  Come,  I  won't  think  any- 
thing more  about  her." 

"You  deserve  that  I  should  send  you  to  her  now." 

"I  'm  going,"  said  the  baron,  smiling,  "but  I  shall 
come  back  more  in  love  with  you  than  ever.  Yrou  will 
see  that  the  prettiest  woman  in  the  world  can't  obtain 
a  heart  that  belongs  to  you." 

"I  see  that  you  want  to  win  the  colonel's  horse. ! 


» 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  321 

"Ah!  the  traitor,"  he  replied,  laughing,  and  threat- 
ening the  colonel,  who  now  came  up  to  them,  with  his 
finger.  But  as  he  yielded  his  seat  to  his  friend,  he 
said,  in  a  sardonic  tone:  "Madame,  this  is  a  man  who 
has  boasted  that  he  can  win  your  good  graces  in  a 
single  evening." 

As  he  walked  away  he  congratulated  himself  on 
having  stirred  up  the  pride  of  the  countess  and  spoiled 
Montcornet's  chances;  for,  in  spite  of  his  habitual 
shrewdness,  he  had  not  detected  the  covert  sarcasm  of 
Madame  de  Vaudremont's  remarks  to  him;  and  he 
did  not  see  that  she  was  really  making  as  many  steps 
toward  his  friend  as  his  friend  was  taking  toward  her, 
though  both  were  unconscious  of  it. 

At  the  moment  when  the  master  of  petitions  began 
to  hover  round  the  particular  candelabrum  near  which 
the  Comtesse  de  Soulanges,  pale  and  anxious,  and 
seeming  to  live  in  her  eyes  only,  was  still  sitting,  her 
husband  appeared  in  the  doorway,  his  eyes  sparkling 
with  anger.  The  old  duchess,  watchful  of  all,  came 
up  to  her  nephew  and  asked  for  his  arm  to  take  her 
to  her  carriage,  pretending  to  be  bored  to  death,  but 
really  anxious  to  prevent  an  unpleasant  outbreak. 
Before  leaving  the  room  she  made  a  singular  sign  of 
intelligence  to  her  niece,  motioning  to  the  enterprising 
baron  who  was  hovering  near,  —  a  sign  which  seemed 
to  say:  "Now,  then,  revenge  yourself. " 

Madame  de  Vaudremont  intercepted  that  look;  a 
sudden  gleam  illuminated  her  mind;  she  feared  she 
was  the  dupe  of  the  wily  old  woman  so  trained  to 
intrigue. 

"That   perfidious   duchess,"    she   said    to    herself, 

21 


322  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

"may  have  thought  it  amusing  to  lecture  me  while 
playing  some  mischievous  trick  after  her  kind." 

At  this  thought  Madame  de  Vaudremont's  pride 
became  more  interested  than  even  her  curiosity  in  un- 
ravelling the  threads  of  the  intrigue;  and  the  secret 
preoccupation  of  her  mind  scarcely  allowed  her  to  be 
mistress  of  herself.  The  colonel,  interpreting  to  his 
own  advantage  the  embarrassment  visible  in  the  man- 
ners and  language  of  the  countess,  became  more  and 
more  assiduous  and  pressing.  Old  and  biases  diplo- 
matists who  amuse  themselves  by  watching  the  play 
of  countenances  could  seldom  meet  with  more  in- 
trigues to  watch  and  fathom  than  in  the  course  of  this 
evening. 

The  baron  at  last  managed  to  obtain  a  seat  beside 
the  Comtesse  de  Soulanges.  His  eyes  wandered  fur- 
tively over  a  throat  cool  as  the  dew,  sweet  as  a  wild- 
flower.  He  admired,  close  at  hand,  the  beauties  that 
surprised  him  from  afar.  He  saw  a  tiny  foot  well 
shod ;  he  measured  with  his  eye  that  supple,  graceful 
waist.  In  those  days  women  made  their  waists 
directly  beneath  their  bosoms,  in  imitation  of  Greek 
statues,  —  a  pitiless  and  fatal  fashion  for  those  whose 
forms  were  defective.  Casting  a  furtive  glance  upon 
that  bosom,  Martial  was  enchanted  with  the  perfection 
of  the  lady's  figure. 

"You  have  not  danced  once  this  evening,  madame," 
he  said,  in  a  soft  and  flattering  voice;  "not  for  want 
of  partners,  I  am  very  sure." 

"I  do  not  go  into  society,  and  I  am  therefore  un- 
known," replied  Madame  de  Soulanges,  coldly,  for 
she  had  not  comprehended  the  glance  by  which  her 
aunt  invited  her  to  coquette  with  the  baron. 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  323 

Martial  was  at  that  moment  playing  with  the  dia- 
mond ring  which  adorned  his  left  hand.  The  glitter 
of  the  stones  seemed  to  send  a  sudden  gleam  into  the 
soul  of  the  young  woman,  who  colored  high  and  cast 
an  indefinable  look  upon  the  baron. 

"Do  you  like  dancing?  "  he  said,  by  way  of  renew- 
ing the  conversation. 

"Oh!  very  much,  monsieur." 

At  this  strange,  eager  answer  their  glances  met. 
The  baron,  surprised  by  the  tones  of  her  voice,  which 
roused  a  vague  hope  in  his  heart,  now  questioned  the 
eyes  of  the  young  lady. 

"Then,  maclame,  I  trust  it  is  not  temerity  on  my 
part  to  ask  to  be  your  partner  in  the  next  quadrille." 

An  artless  confusion  colored  the  white  cheeks  of  the 
pretty  countess. 

"But,  monsieur,  I  have  just  refused  a  gentleman,  a 
soldier —  " 

"Was  it  that  tall  colonel  of  cuirassiers  you  see  over 
there  ?  " 

"Precisely." 

"Oh!  he  is  my  best  friend;  you  need  fear  nothing. 
Will  you  grant  me  the  favor  I  have  asked  ?  " 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

The  tones  of  her  voice  revealed  so  strong  and  sud- 
den an  emotion  that  even  the  master  of  petitions  was 
startled.  He  felt  reduced  to  the  timidity  of  a  school- 
boy, he  lost  his  cool  assurance,  his  Southern  brain 
flared  up,  he  tried  to  speak,  but  his  words  seemed  to 
him  awkward  compared  with  the  sparkling  repartees 
of  Madame  de  Soulanges.  It  was  lucky  for  him  that 
the  quadrille  soon  began.    Standing  beside  his  beauti- 


324  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

ful  partner  he  grew  more  at  his  ease.  To  many  men 
dancing  is  a  method  of  action;  they  think  that  by 
displaying  the  graces  of  their  figure  they  affect  the 
hearts  of  women  more  powerfully  than  by  the  charms 
of  their  mind.  Martial  was,  no  doubt,  intending  to 
employ  all  methods  of  seduction,  judging  by  the  cox- 
combry of  his  motions  and  gestures.  He  now  led  his 
conquest  to  her  place  in  a  certain  quadrille  to  which 
the  most  distinguished  women  in  the  room  attached  a 
fanciful  importance,  preferring  it  to  all  others.  While 
the  orchestra  performed  the  prelude  to  the  opening 
figure,  the  baron  looked  about  him  with  incredible 
satisfaction  to  his  pride,  passing  in  review  all  the  other 
ladies  of  that  formidable  square,  and  perceiving  that 
his  partner's  dress  rivalled  even  that  of  the  Comtesse 
de  Vaudremont,  who,  by  an  accident  (well-contrived, 
perhaps),  proved  to  be  the  vis-a-vis  of  the  baron  and 
his  blue  lady. 

The  eyes  of  all  the  dancers  rested  for  a  moment  on 
Madame  de  Soulanges;  a  flattering  murmur  proved 
that  she  was  the  topic  of  conversation ;  admiring,  and 
even  envious  glances  came  so  thickly  upon  her  that, 
ashamed  of  a  triumph  she  seemed  to  decline,  the 
young  woman  modestly  lowered  her  eyes  and  blushed, 
which  made  her  the  more  attractive.  When  she  raised 
her  white  eyelids  it  was  only  to  look  at  her  intoxicated 
partner,  as  if,  so  he  thought,  she  wished  to  convey  to 
him  the  homage  she  had  won  and  let  him  know  that 
his  was  the  flattery  she  preferred.  She  seemed  to 
give  herself  up  with  innocent  coquetry  to  that  naive 
admiration  by  which  young  love  begins.  When  she 
danced,  the  spectators  might  well  have  believed  she 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  325 

was  displaying  her  graces  for  Martial  only;  and, 
though  modest,  and  new  to  the  manoeuvres  of  salons, 
she  seemed  to  know,  as  well  as  the  most  practised 
coquette,  how  and  when  to  raise  her  eyes  to  his,  and 
when  to  lower  them  with  feigned  reserve. 

When  the  rules  of  a  new  quadrille  invented  by  the 
dancer  Trenis  (to  which  he  gave  his  name)  brought 
Martial  alone  in  front  of  Montcornet,  he  said, 
laughing: — 

"I  have  won  your  horse." 

"Yes,  but  you  have  lost  eighty  thousand  francs  a 
year,"  replied  the  colonel,  with  a  sign  toward  Madame 
de  Vaudremont. 

"What's  that  to  me?"  said  Martial.  "Madame 
de  Soulanges  compensates  for  millions." 

By  the  end  of  this  quadrille  much  whispering  went 
on  from  ear  to  ear.  The  plainest  women  moralized 
with  their  partners  on  the  dawning  intimacy  of  Martial 
and  the  blue  lady.  The  beauties  affected  surprise  at 
its  suddenness.  The  men  declared  that  they  could  n't 
understand  the  success  of  that  little  master  of  peti- 
tions, in  whom,  for  their  parts,  they  could  see  nothing 
attractive.  A  few  indulgent  women  said  it  was  un- 
reasonable to  judge  the  lady  so  hastily;  it  would  be 
most  unfortunate  for  young  women  if  an  expressive 
glance,  or  a  gracefully  danced  figure  were  enough  to 
compromise  them. 

Martial  alone  knew  the  extent  of  his  success.  In 
the  last  figure  of  the  quadrille,  when  the  ladies  form 
the  moulinet,  he  was  certain  that  he  felt,  through  the 
soft  and  perfumed  kid  of  her  glove,  the  gentle  fingers 
of  the  young  woman  replying  to  his  amorous  appeal. 


326  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

" Madame,"  he  said,  the  moment  the  dance  was 
over,  "pray  don't  return  to  that  odious  corner  where 
you  have  buried  until  now  your  face  and  your  toilet. 
Is  admiration  the  only  return  you  seek  for  those 
splendid  jewels  which  adorn  your  throat  and  your 
exquisitely  braided  hair?  Come  and  take  a  turn 
through  the  salons  to  enjoy  the  ball  and  your  own 
effect." 

Madame  de  Soulanges  followed  her  partner,  who 
thought  she  might  be  more  surely  won  if  he  succeeded 
in  exhibiting  their  intimacy.  Together  they  took 
several  turns  through  the  groups  that  crowded  the 
various  salons.  The  countess,  apparently  uneasy, 
always  paused  a  moment  before  entering  each  salon, 
and  did  not  advance  until  she  had  cast  a  glance  over 
all  the  men  who  were  in  it.  This  fear,  which  filled 
the  master  of  petitions  with  delight,  seemed  to  calm 
itself  when  he  assured  her,  "You  need  not  be  un- 
easy; he  is  not  there." 

Presently  they  reached  the  large  picture-gallery, 
in  one  of  the  wings  of  the  mansion  where  supper  had 
been  laid  for  three  hundred  Quests.  As  the  feast  was 
about  to  begin,  Martial  drew  the  countess  toward  an 
oval  boudoir  opening  out  upon  the  gardens,  where  the 
rarest  flowers  and  a  few  choice  shrubs  made  a  per- 
fumed bower  beneath  a  mass  of  brilliant  blue  drap- 
eries. The  echoes  of  the  ball  died  away  there.  Here 
the  countess  hesitated,  and  refused  at  first  to  follow 
the  young  man;  but  casting  a  glance  into  a  mirror 
on  the  wall,  she  probably  saw  that  there  were  witnesses 
in  the  room,  for  she  suddenly  changed  her  mind, 
and  sat  down  with  sufficiently  good  grace  upon  an 
ottoman. 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  327 


'This  room  is  delightful,"  she  said,  looking  up  at 
the  sky-blue  hangings  which  were  roped  with  pearls. 

"All  is  love  and  pleasure,"  murmured  the  young 
man,   in  tones  of  emotion. 

Taking  advantage  of  the  half-light  to  gaze  closely 
at  the  countess,  he  saw  upon  her  face  an  expression 
of  trouble,  shyness,  and  desire  which  enchanted  him. 
The  young  woman  smiled,  and  the  smile  seemed  to 
put  an  end  to  a  struggle  of  feelings  within  her  soul; 
she  touched  the  left  hand  of  her  adorer  and  looked  at 
the  ring  on  which  her  eyes  had  already  fastened. 

"What  a  beautiful  diamond!  "  she  said,  with  the 
artless  expression  of  a  girl  who  betrays  the  tempta- 
tion that  a  bauble  is  to  her. 

Martial,  much  moved  by  the  involuntary  but  intoxi- 
cating caress  of  the  countess's  hand  upon  his  own, 
looked  at  her  with  eyes  as  dazzling  as  the  diamond 
itself. 

"Wear  it,"  he  said,  taking  off  the  ring,  "in  memory 
of  this  celestial  hour,  and  for  love  of  —  " 

She  looked  at  it  with  such  ecstasy  that  he  kissed 
her  hand. 

"Do  you  give  it  to  me?"  she  said,  in  a  tone  of 
surprise. 

"I  would  fain  give  you  the  whole  world." 

"You  are  not  jesting?"  she  continued,  in  a  voice 
which  betrayed  her  keen  satisfaction. 

"Will  you  accept  my  diamond  only?  " 

"You  will  not  take  it  back?  "  she  asked. 

"Never." 

She  put  the  ring  upon  her  finger.  Martial,  sure  of 
his  coming  happiness,  made  a  gesture  as  if  to  pass 


328  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

his  arm  about  her  waist,  but  the  countess  suddenly 
rose,  and  said,  in  a  clear  voice,  without  the  slightest 
emotion:  — 

"Monsieur,  I  accept  this  diamond  with  all  the  less 
scruple  because  it  belongs  to  me." 

The  master  of  petitions  was  confounded. 

"Monsieur  de  Soulanges  took  it  lately  from  my 
dressing-table  and  told  me  he  had  mislaid  it." 

"You  are  wrong,  madame,"  said  Martial,  in  a 
piqued  tone.  "I  received  it  from  Madame  de 
Vaudremont." 

"Precisely,"  she  replied,  smiling.  "My  husband 
borrowed  the  ring  of  me,  he  gave  it  to  her,  and  she 
has  given  it  to  you ;  my  ring  has  travelled,  that  is  all. 
It  can  tell  me  now,  perhaps,  what  I  may  have  ignored, 
—  the  secret  of  pleasing.  Monsieur,"  she  continued, 
gravely,  "if  it  had  not  been  mine,  be  assured  that  I 
should  not  have  risked  so  much  to  recover  it;  for  a 
young  woman  is,  they  say,  in  danger  from  your  atten- 
tions. But,"  she  added,  laughing,  and  touching  a 
secret  spring  beneath  the  diamond,  "see,  my  hus- 
band's hair  is  still  in  it." 

So  saying,  she  darted  away  through  the  salons  with 
such  rapidity  that  he  saw  it  was  useless  to  attempt  to 
follow  her,  and,  moreover,  he  was  no  longer  in  a 
mood  to  continue  the  adventure.  The  lady's  laugh 
was  echoed  in  the  room  itself,  where,  ensconced  behind 
two  shrubs,  the  coxcomb  now  beheld  the  colonel  and 
Madame  de  Vaudremont,  who  were  laughing  heartily. 

"Will  you  have  my  horse  to  run  after  your  con- 
quest?" said  the  colonel. 

The  good  grace  with  which  the  baron  accepted  the 


The  Peace  of  a  Home,  829 

jests  Madame  de  Vaudremont  and  Montcornet  now 
rained  down  upon  him,  earned  him  their  silence  upon 
this  scene,  where  a  charger  was  won  in  exchange  for  a 
young,  and  pretty,  and  wealthy  widow. 

As  the  Comtesse  de  Soulanges  was  driven  home 
through  the  space  that  separates  the  Chaussee-d'Antin 
from  the  faubourg  Saint-Germain,  where  she  lived,  her 
soul  was  filled  with  the  keenest  anxiety.  Before  leav- 
ing the  hotel  Gondreville,  she  had  gone  through  all  the 
salons  without  being  able  to  find  either  her  aunt  or  her 
husband,  who,  as  we  know,  had  left  the  ball  before 
her.  Dreadful  presentiments  now  tortured  her  inno- 
cent soul.  A  silent  witness  of  the  sufferings  her 
husband  had  endured  from  the  day  when  Madame 
de  Vaudremont  attached  him  to  her  chariot,  she  had 
confidently  hoped  that  a  coming  repentance  would 
bring  him  back  to  her.  It  was  therefore  with  great 
repugnance  that  she  agreed  to  a  plan  laid  by  her  aunt, 
Madame  de  Lansac,  and  she  now  feared  that  in  doing 
so  she  had  committed  an  irreparable  fault.  The 
events  of  the  evening  had  depressed  her  candid  soul. 
Alarmed  at  the  gloomy,  suffering  air  of  her  husband, 
she  was  still  more  alarmed  by  the  beauty  of  her  rival, 
and  the  corruption  of  society  which  she  saw  about  her. 
Crossing  the  pont  Royal  she  flung  away  the  desecrated 
hair  contained  in  the  ring  once  given  as  the  pledge  of 
a  pure  love.  She  wept  as  she  recalled  the  sufferings 
she  had  lived  through  for  months,  and  shuddered  at 
the  thought  of  a  wife's  duty  which  requires  her,  if  she 
would  retain  the  peace  of  her  home,  to  bury  in  her 
heart,  without  uttering  a  complaint,  the  cruel  agony 
she  was  now  enduring. 


330  The  Peace  of  a  Home. 

"Alas!  "  she  thought,  "how  should  women  act  who 
love  their  husbands?  Where  is  the  source  of  their 
peace  of  mind?  I  do  not  believe,  as  my  aunt  tells 
me,  that  mere  reason  is  sufficient  to  support  them 
under  such  a  trial." 

She  sighed  as  the  chasseur  let  down  the  steps  of  the 
carriage,  from  which  she  sprang  into  the  vestibule  of 
her  house.  Thence  she  ran  quickly  upstairs;  but 
when  she  reached  her  room  she  trembled  in  every 
limb  on  seeing  her  husband  sitting  by  the  fireplace, 
and  evidently  waiting  for  her. 

"Since  when,  my  dear,"  he  said,  in  a  high  and 
strained  voice,  "have  you  thought  it  right  to  go  to  a 
ball  without  letting  me  know  of  your  intention.  Let 
me  tell  you  that  a  wife  is  out  of  place  in  public  unless 
accompanied  by  her  husband.  You  compromised 
yourself  strangely  in  that  dark  corner  where  you  chose 
to  put  yourself." 

"Oh!  my  good  Leon,"  she  said,  in  a  caressing 
voice,  her  eyes  sparkling  with  satisfaction,  "I 
could  n't  resist  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  without 
your  seeing  me.  My  aunt  took  me  to  the  ball ;  and  I 
have  been  very  happy  there." 

These  words  disarmed  the  jealous  anger  of  the  count; 
all  the  more  because  he  had  been  making  some  bitter 
reproaches  to  himself  while  dreading  his  wife's  return. 
No  doubt,  he  thought,  she  was  informed  at  the  ball  of 
an  infidelity  he  had  hoped  to  conceal  from  her  knowl- 
edge, and,  like  other  lovers,  he  rushed  into  jealousy 
himself,  hoping  to  be  the  first  to  cast  reproaches,  and 
so  evade  the  blame  that  was  justly  due  to  him.  He 
now  looked  silently  at  his  wife,  who,  in  her  brilliant 


The  Peace  of  a  Home.  331 

evening  dress,  seemed  to  him  more  beautiful  than 
ever;  and  the  thought  brought  a  smile  to  his  face. 
Happy  in  that  smile,  and  glad  to  find  her  husband  in 
a  room  where,  of  late,  he  had  come  but  seldom,  the 
countess  looked  at  him  tenderly.  This  clemency  so 
enraptured  Soulanges,  coming,  as  it  did,  after  the  tor- 
tures he  had  gone  through  at  the  ball,  that  he  seized 
his  wife's  hand  and  kissed  it  gratefully;  how  often 
we  find  true  gratitude  in  love! 

"Hortense,  what  is  that  on  your  finger  that  scratched 
my  lip?  "  he  said,  laughing. 

"That,"  she  said,  "is  my  diamond  ring,  "which 
you  said  was  lost,  but  which  I  have  recovered." 

General  Montcornet  did  not  marry  Madame  de 
Vaudremont.  in  spite  of  the  good  understanding 
established  between  them  in  the  course  of  this  even- 
ing, for  the  countess  was  one  of  the  victims  of  that 
dreadful  conflagration  which  made  the  ball  of  the 
Austrian  ambassador,  on  the  occasion  of  Napoleon's 
marriage  with  the  Archduchess  Maria-Louisa,  forever 
celebrated. 


THE    END. 


BALZAC  IN  ENGLISH. 


MODESTE    MlGNON. 

TRANSLATED    BY 

KATHARINE    PRESCOTT    WORMELEY. 


In  "  Modeste  Mignon  "  we  still  have  that  masterly  power  of  analysis,  keen, 
incisive,  piercing  superficiality  and  pretence,  as  a  rapier  pierces  a  doublet,  but  we 
have  in  addition' the  purity  and  sweetness  of  a  genuine  light  comedy,  — a  comedy 
which  has  for  its  central  object  the  delineation  of  the  mysteries  of  a  young  girl's 
mind. 

As  a  whole,  "  Modeste  Mignon  "  is  not  only  a  masterpiece  of  French  art,  but 
a  masterpiece  of  that  master  before  whom  later  novelists  must  pale  their  ineffec- 
tual fires.  As  the  different  examples  of  Balzac's  skill  are  brought  before  the  pub- 
lic through  the  excellent  translations  by  Miss  Wormeley,  none  competent  to  judge 
can  fail  to  perceive  the  power  of  that  gigantic  intellect  which  projected  and  carried 
out  the  scheme  of  the  Comedie  Humaine,  nor  fail  to  understand  the  improvement 
in  literature  that  would  result  if  Balzac's  methods  and  aims  were  carefully  studied 
by  all  who  aspire  to  the  name  of  novelist. — New  York  Home  Journal. 

The  public  owes  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  the  industrious  translator  of  Balzac's 
masterpieces.  They  follow  one  another  with  sufficient  rapidity  to  stand  in  striking 
contrast  with  each  other.  The  conscientious  reader  of  them  cannot  but  lay  down  one 
after  another  with  an  increasing  admiration  for  their  author's  marvellous  grasp  upon 
the  great  social  forces  which  govern  the  thought  and  actions  of  men.  In  "  Modeste 
Mignon,"  as  in  "  Eugenie  Grandet,"  we  find  that  the  tremulous  vibrations  of  first 
love  in  the  heart  of  a  young  and  pure-minded  girl  are  not  deemed  unworthy  of  this 
great  artist's  study.  The  delicate  growth  of  a  sentiment  which  gradually  expanded 
into  a  passion,  and  which  was  absolutely  free  from  any  taint  of  sensuality,  is 
analyzed  in  "  Modeste  Mignon"  with  consummate  skill.  The  plot  of  this  book 
is  far  from  extraordinary.  It  is  even  commonplace.  But  where  in  these  days 
shall  we  find  another  author  who  can  out  of  such  a  simple  plot  make  a  story  like 
the  one  before  us?  The  many-sidedness  of  Balzac's  genius  is  widely  acknowl- 
edged ;  but  there  are  probably  few  people  among  those  whose  acquaintance  with 
his  writings  has  been  necessarily  limited  to  translations  who  could  conceive  of  him 
producing  such  a  bright  and  sparkling  story,  thoroughly  realistic,  full  of  vitalizing 
power,  keen  analysis,  and  depth  of  study  and  reflection,  brilliantly  imaginative, 
and  showing  an  elasticity  in  its  creative  process  which  cannot  fail  to  attract  every 
lover  of  a  higher  and  better  art  in  fiction. 

But  light  and  delicate  as  Balzac's  touch  generally  is  throughout  this  volume, 
there  is  also  shown  a  slumbering  force  which  occasionally  awakens  and  delivers  a 
blow  that  seems  as  if  it  had  been  struck  by  the  hammer  of  Thor.  He  ranges  over 
the  whole  scale  of  human  passion  and  emotion,  penetrates  into  the  very  inmost 
chambers  of  the  heart,  apprehends  its  movements,  and  lays  bare  its  weakness 
with  a  firm  and  yet  delicate  touch  of  his  scalpel.  The  book  has  been  excellently 
translated  by  Miss  Wormeley.  She  is  fully  in  sympathy  with  the  author,  and  has 
(Caught  his  spirit,  and  the  result  is  a  translation  which  preserves  the  full  flavor, 
vigor,  and  delicacy  of  the  original. 


One  handsome  \imo  volume,  uniform  with  " Plre  Goriof,"  "  The 
Duchesse  de  Lan^cais,"  "Cesar  Birottcau"  "Eugenie  Grandetf 
**  Cousin  Pons,''''  "  The  Country  Doctor,"  "The  Two  Brothers,'1  and 
u  The  Alkahest"     Half  morocco,  French  style.     Price^  $1.50. 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS,  Publishers, 

Boston. 


BALZAC     IN     ENGLISH 


COUSIN  BETTE 


TRANSLATED  BY 

KATHARINE    PRESCOTT   WORMELEY. 


He  [Balzac]  does  not  make  Vice  the  leading  principle  of  life.  The  most  terrible 
punishment  invariably  awaits  transgressors.  .  .  .  Psychologically  considered, 
i(  Cousin  Bette"  with  the  "  Peau  de  Chagrin  "  and  "  The  Alkahest"  are  the  most 

Eowerful  of  all  Balzac's  studies.  The  marvellous  acquaintance  this  romance-writer 
ad  with  all  phases  and  conditions  of  French  men  and  women  has  never  been 
more  strongly  accentuated.  For  a  French  romance  presenting  difficulties  in 
translation,  Miss  Wormeley's  work  is  excellent.  Its  faithfulness  is  even  remark- 
able. We  can  hardly  conceive  that  after  this  series  is  completed  Balzac  will 
remain  unknown  or  unappreciated  by  American  readers.  — New  York  Times. 

Balzac  aspired  to  paint  French  life,  especially  Parisian  life,  in  all  its  aspects, — 
"  the  great  modern  monster  with  its  every  face,"  to  use  his  own  words  ;  and  in  no 
one  of  his  novels  is  his  insight  keener,  his  coloring  bolder,  or  his  disclosures  of  the 
corruptions  of  city  life  more  painfully  realistic,  than  in  "  Cousin  Bette."  .  .  .  Not 
one  of  the  admirably  rendered  series  shows  more  breadth,  skill,  and  sympathy 
with  every  characteristic  of  the  great  French  author  than  does  this.  And  it  is 
quite  a  marvel  of  translation.  —  The  American,  Philadelphia. 

'T  is  true  the  book  is  not  for  babes,  but  he  must  have  strange  views  of  innocence 
who  would  ignore  the  influence  for  good  inherent  in  such  a  work.  Ignorance  con- 
stitutes but  a  sorry  shield  against  the  onslaughts  of  temptation.  It  is  well  if  wis- 
dom can  be  so  cheaply  got  as  by  the  perusal  of  the  book.  — American  Hebreiv. 

It  is  an  awful  picture,  but  it  is  emphatically  a  work  of  genius.  ...  It  cannot 
be  said  that  "Cousin  Bette"  is  a  book  for  those  who  like  only  optimistic  presen- 
tations of  life.  It  is  a  study  in  morbid  pathology  ;  an  inquiry  into  the  working  of 
passions  and  vices,  the  mischief  actually  caused  by  what  in  all  human  societies  is 
too  patent  and  too  constantly  in  evidence  to  be  denied  or  ignored.  .  .  He  [Bal- 
zac] must  be  judged  by  the  scientific  standard,  and  from  that  point  of  view  there 
can  be  no  hesitation  in  declaring  "  Cousin  Bette  "  a  most  powerful  work.  —  New 
York  Tribune. 

And  there  is  much  in  the  characters  that  is  improper  and  fortunately  counter  to 
our  civilization  ;  still  the  tone  concerning  these  very  things  is  a  healthy  one,  and 
Balzac's  belief  in  purity  and  goodness,  his  faith  in  the  better  part  of  humanity,  is 
shown  in  the  beautiful  purity  of  Madame  Hulot,  and  the  lovely  chastity  of  Hor= 
tense.  In  "  Cousin  Bette,"  as  in  all  Balzac's  works,  he  manifests  a  familiarity 
with  the  ethics  of  life  which  has  gained  for  him  the  exalted  position  as  the  greatest 
of  French  novelists.  —  St.  Paul  Dispatch. 


One  handsome  \2mo  volume,  uniform  "with  "  Pere  Goriot"  "  The 
Duchesse  de  Langcais"  "  Char  Birotteau,"  "  Eugenie  Grandet" 
11  Cousin  Pons"  "  The  Country  Doctor"  "  The  Two  Brother -j,"  "  The 
Alkahest"  "  The  Magic  Skin"  and  "  Modeste  Mignon."  Bound  in  half 
morocco,  French  Style.     Price,  #1.50. 

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Boston. 


BALZAC'S  PHILOSOPHICAL  NOVELS. 


THE  MAGIC  SKIN.— LOUIS  LAMBERT. 
— =  SERAPHITA.= — 

TRANSLATED    BY 

KATHARINE  PRESCOTT  WORMELEY. 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  EACH  NOVEL  BY 

GEORGE   FREDERIC    PARSONS. 

[From  Le  Livre,  Revue  du  Monde  Litieraire,  Paris,  March,  1889.] 

There  are  men  so  great  that  humanity  passes  generations  of  existences  in 
measuring  them.  .  .  .  Certain  it  is  that  to-day  the  French  Academy  makes  Bal- 
zac's work  the  theme  for  its  prize  of  eloquence,  that  the  great  writer  is  translated 
and  commented  upon  in  foreign  countries,  and  that  in  Paris  and  even  at  Tours, 
his  native  place,  statues  are  in  process  of  being  erected  to  him.  .  .  .  But  the 
marble  of  M.  Chapus,  the  bronze  of  M.  Fournier,  —  Balzac  sad  or  Balzac  seated,  — 
are  of  little  consequence  to  the  glory  of  the  writer  standing  before  the  world,  who 
bore  a  world  in  his  brain  and  brought  it  forth,  who  was  at  once  the  Diderot  and 
the  Rabelais  of  this  century,  and  who,  above  and  beyond  their  fire,  their  imagina- 
tion, their  superabounding  life,  their  hilarious  spirit,  paradoxical  and  marvellously 
sagacious  as  it  was,  had  in  the  highest  degree  the  mystical  gift  of  intuition,  and  is 
able,  beyond  all  others,  to  open  to  us  illimitable  vistas  of  the  Unseen. 

It  is  this  side  of  Balzac's  genius  which  at  the  present  time  attracts  and  pre- 
occupies foreign  critics.  Mile  Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley  has  undertaken  to 
translate  the  "Comedie  Humaine"  into  English.  She  has  already  published 
several  volumes  which  show  a  most  intelligent  sympathy  and  a  talent  that  is  both 
simple  and  vigorous.  Lately  she  translated  "  La  Peau  de  Chagrin  "  ("  The  Magic 
Skin"),  and  now,  taking  another  step  into  the  esoteric  work  of  the  Master,  she  gives 
to  the  Anglo-Saxon  public  ;'  Louis  Lambert."  But  she  does  not  venture  upon  this 
arduous  task  without  support.  Mr.  George  Frederic  Parsons  has  undertaken  in  a 
long  introduction  to  initiate  the  reader  into  the  meaning  hidden ,  or,  we  should  rather 
say,  encased,  in  the  psychologic  study  of  a  lofty  soul  which  ends  by  inspiring  mun- 
dane minds  with  respect  for  its  seeming  madness  and  a  deep  sense  of  the  Beyond. 
.  .  .  Many  critics,  and  several  noted  ones,  have  so  little  understood  the  real  mean- 
ing of  "  Louis  Lambert "  and  "  Seraphita  "  that  they  have  wondered  why  the  au- 
thor gave  them  a  place  in  the  "  Comedie  Humaine,"  which,  nevertheless,  without 
them  would  be  a  temple  without  a  pediment,  as  M.  Taine  very  clearly  saw  and 
said.  Mr.  Parsons  takes  advantage  of  Miss  Wormeley's  translation  to  state  and 
prove  and  elucidate  this  truth.  The  commentary  may  be  thought  a  little  long,  a 
little  replete,  or  too  full  of  comparisons  and  erudite  reference ;  but  all  serious 
readers  who  follow  it  throughout  will  never  regret  that  they  have  thus  prepared 
themselves  to  understand  Balzac's  work.  We  call  the  attention  of  the  philosophi- 
cal and  thtjosophical  journals  to  this  powerful  study.  [Translated.] 


Handsome  i2mo  volumes;  bound  in  half  Russia,  French  style. 
Price,  $1.50  per  volume. 

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BALZAC    IN    ENGLISH. 


SONS  OF  THE  SOIL. 

Translated  by  Kathau'ne  Prescott  Wormeley. 


Many  critics  have  regarded  "  Les  Paysans,"  to  which  Miss  Wormeley, 
in  her  admirable  translation,  has  given  the  title  "  Sons  of  the  Soil,"  as  one 
of  Balzac's  strongest  novels  ;  and  it  cannot  fail  to  impress  those  who  read 
this  English  rendering  of  it.  Fifty  or  sixty  years  ago  Balzac  made  a  pro- 
found study  of  the  effects  produced  by  the  Revolution  upon  the  peasants 
of  the  remote  provinces  of  France,  and  he  has  here  elaborated  these  obser- 
vations in  a  powerful  picture  of  one  of  those  strange,  disguised,  but  fero- 
cious social  wars  which  were  at  the  time  not  only  rendered  possible,  but 
promoted  by  three  potent  influences,  namely,  the  selfishness  of  the  rich 
landholders;  the  land-hunger  and  stimulated  greed  of  the  peasants;  and 
the  calculated  rapacity  of  middle-class  capitalists,  craftily  using  the  hatreds 
of  the  poor  to  forward  their  own  plots.  The  first  part  of  "  Les  Paysans  " 
(and  the  only  part  which  was  published  during  the  author's  life)  appeared 
under  a  title  taken  from  an  old  and  deeply  significant  proverb,  Qui  a  terre 
a  guerre,  — "Who  has  land  has  war." 

It  is  the  account  of  a  guerilla  war  conducted  by  a  whole  country-sid^ 
against  one  great  land-owner, — a  war  in  which,   moreover,  the   lawless 
aggressions  of  the  peasantry  are  prompted,  supported,  and  directed  by  an 
amazing  alliance  between  the  richest,  most  unscrupulous,  and  most  power 
ful  of  the  neighboring  provincial  magnates,  who,  by  controlling,  through 
family  council,  the  local  administration,  are  in  a  position  to  paralyze  resist 
ance  to  their  conspiracy.     The  working  out  of  this  deep  plot  affords  the 
author  opportunity  for  the  introduction  of  a  whole  gallery  of  marvelloui 
studies. 

It  is  perhaps  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  this  powerful  and  absorbing 
story  is  lifted  above  the  level  of  romance  by  the  unequalled  artistic  genius 
of  the  author,  and  that  it  is  at  times  almost  transformed  into  a  profound 
political  study  by  the  depth  and  acumen  of  his  suggestions  and  comments. 
Nor  should  it  be  requisite  to  point  out  analogies  with  territorial  conditions 
in  more  than  one  other  country,  which  lend  to  "  Les  Paysans  "  a  special 
interest  and  significance,  and  are  likely  to  prevent  it  from  becoming  obsolete 
for  a  long  time  to  come.  Of  the  translation  it  only  need  be  said  that  it  is 
as  good  as  Miss  Wormeley  has  accustomed  us  to  expect,  and  that  means 
the  best  rendering  of  French  into  English  that  has  ever  been  done. — 
New  York  Tribune. 


Handsome  12mo  volume,  bound  in  half  Russia.   Price, 
$1.50. 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  Publishers, 

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BALZAC   IN  ENGLISH. 


Fame  and   Sorrow, 

girti  ©tijer  storks, 

TRANSLATED  BY  KATHARINE  PRESCOTT  WORMELEY. 

l2mo.  Half  Russia.  Uniform  with  our  edition  of  Balzac's 
Works.  Price,  $1.50.  In  addition  to  this  remarkable  story, 
the  volume  contains  the  following,  namely  :  "  Colonel  Chabert," 
"The  Atheist's  Mass,"  "  La  Grande  Breteche,"  "The  Purse,"  and 
"  La  Grenadiere." 

The  force  and  passion  of  the  stories  of  Balzac  are  unapproachable.  He  had 
tha  art  of  putting  into  half  a  dozen  pages  all  the  fire  and  stress  which  many 
writers,  who  are  still  great,  cannot  compass  in  a  volume.  The  present  volume  is 
an  admirable  collection,  and  presents  well  his  power  of  handling  the  short  story. 
That  the  translation  is  excellent  need  hardly  be  said  — Boston  Courier. 

The  six  stories,  admirably  translated  by  Miss  Wormeley,  afford  good  examples 
of  Balzac's  work  in  what  not  a  few  critics  have  thought  his  chief  specialty.  It  is 
certain  that  no  writer  of  many  novels  wrote  so  many  short  stories  as  he  ;  and  it  is 
equally  as  certain  that  his  short  stories  are,  almost  without  an  exception,  models 
of  what  such  compositions  ought  to  be.  .  .  No  modern  author,  however,  of  any 
school  whatever,  has  succeeded  in  producing  short  stories  half  so  good  as  Balzac's 
best.  Balzac  did  not,  indeed,  attempt  to  display  his  subtility  and  deftness  by 
writing  short  stories  about  nothing.  Every  one  of  his  tales  contains  an  episode, 
not  necessarily,  but  usually,  a  dramatic  episode.  The  first  in  the  present  collec- 
tion, better  known  as  "La  Maison  du  Chat-qui-pelote,"  is  really  a  short  novel. 
It  has  all  the  machinery,  all  the  interest,  all  the  detail  of  a  regular  story.  The 
difference  is  that  it  is  compressed  as  Balzac  only  could  compress;  that  here  and 
there  important  events,  changes,  etc.,  are  indicated  in  a  few  powerful  lines  instead 
of  being  elaborated;  that  the  vital  points  are  thrown  into  strong  relief.  Take  the 
pathetic  story  of  "Colonel  Chabert."  It  begins  with  an  elaboration  of  detail. 
The  description  of  the  lawyer's  office  might  seem  to  some  too  minute.  But  it  is 
the  stage  upon  which  the  Colonel  is  to  appear,  and  when  he  enters  we  see  the 
value  of  the  preliminaries,  for  a  picture  is  presented  which  the  memory  seizes  and 
holds.  As  the  action  progresses,  detail  is  used  more  parsimoniously,  because  tha 
mise-en-scene  has  already  been  completed,  and  because,  also,  the  characters  once 
clearly  described,  the  development  of  character  and  the  working  of  passion  can 
be  indicated  with  a  few  pregnant  strokes.  Notwithstanding  this  increasing 
economy  of  space,  the  action  takes  on  a  swifter  intensity,  and  the  culmination  ol 
the  tragedy  leaves  the  reader  breathless. 

In  "The  Atheist's  Mass"  we  have  quite  a  new  kind  of  story  This  is  rather 
a  psychological  study  than  a  narrative  of  action.  Two  widely  distinguished  char- 
acters  are  thrown  on  the  canvas  here,  —  that  of  the  great  surgeon  and  that  of  the 
humble  patron  ;  and  one  knows  not  which  most  to  admire,  the  vigor  of  the 
drawing,  or  the  subtle  and  lucid  psychical  analysis.  In  both  there  is  rare  beauty  of 
soul,  and  perhaps,  after  all,  the  poor  Auvergnat  surpasses  the  eminent  surgeon, 
though  this  is  a  delicate  and  difficult  question.  But  how  complete  the  little  story 
is;  how  much  it  tells  ;  with  what  skill,  and  in  how  delightful  a  manner!  Then 
there  is  that  tremendous  haunting  legend  of  "  La  Grande  Breteche,"  a  story  which 
has  always  been  turned  into  more  languages  and  twisted  into  more  new  forms  than 
almost  any  other  of  its  kind  extant.  What  author  has  equalled  the  continuing 
horror  of  that  unfaithful  wife's  agony,  compelled  to  look  on  and  assist  at  the  slow 
murder  of  her  entrapped  lpver?  .  .  Then  the  death  of  the  husband  and  wife,  — 
the  one  by  quick  and  fiercer  dissipation,  the  other  by  simple  refusal  to  live  longer, 
—  and  the  abandonment  of  the  accursed  dwelling  to  solitude  and  decay,  complete 
a  picture,  which  for  vividness,  emotional  force,  imaginative  power,  and  compre- 
hensiveness of  effects,  can  be  said  to  have  few  equals  in  its  own  class  of  fiction.  — 
Kansas  City  Journal. 

Sold  by  all  booksellers.     Mailed,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 
the  publishers) 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS.  Boston. 


BALZAC  IN  ENGLISH. 


An  Historical  Mystery. 

Translated  by  KATHARINE  PRESCOTT  WORMELEY. 
12mo.    Half  Russia.    Uniform  with  Balzac's  Works.    Price,  $1.50. 


An  Historical  Mystery  is  the  title  given  to  "  Une  Ten^breuse  Affaire,"  which 
has  just  appeared  in  the  series  of  translations  of  Honore  de  Balzac's  novels,  by 
Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley  This  exciting  romance  is  full  of  stirring  interest, 
and  is  distinguished  by  that  minute  analysis  of  character  in  which  its  eminent 
author  excelled.  The  characters  stand  boldly  out  from  the  surrounding  incidents, 
and  with  a  fidelity  as  wonderful  as  it  is  truthful.  Plot  and  counterplot  follow 
each  other  with  marvellous  rapidity;  and  around  the  exciting  days  when  Na- 
poleon was  First  Consul,  and  afterward  when  he  was  Emperor,  a  mystery  is 
woven  in  which  some  royalists  are  concerned  that  is  concealed  with  masterly 
ingenuity  until  the  novelist  sees  fit  to  take  his  reader  into  his  confidence.  The 
heroine,  Laurence,  is  a  remarkably  strong  character;  and  the  love-story  in  which 
she  figures  is  refreshing  in  its  departure  from  the  beaten  path  of  the  ordinary 
writer  of  fiction.  Michu,  her  devoted  servant,  has  also  a  marked  individuality, 
which  leaves  a  lasting  impression.  Napoleon,  Talleyrand,  Fouche,  and  other 
historical  personages,  appear  in  the  tale  in  a  manner  that  is  at  once  natural  and 
impressive.  As  an  addition  to  a  remarkable  series,  the  book  is  one  that  no 
admirer  of  Balzac  can  afford  to  neglect.  Miss  Wormeley's  translation  reproduces 
the  peculiarities  of  the  author's  style  with  the  faithfulness  for  which  she  has 
hitherto  been  celebrated. — Saturday  Evening  Gazette. 

It  makes  very  interesting  reading  at  this  distance  of  time,  however;  and  Balzac 
has  given  to  the  legendary  account  much  of  the  solidity  of  history  by  his  adroit 
manipulation.  For  the  main  story  it  must  be  said  that  the  action  is  swifter  and 
more  varied  than  in  many  of  the  author's  books,  and  that  there  are  not  wanting 
many  of  those  cameo-like  portraits  necessary  to  warn  the  reader  against  slovenly 
perusal  of  this  carefully  written  story;  for  the  complications  are  such,  and  the  re- 
lations between  the  several  plots  involved  so  intricate,  that  the  thread  might 
easily  be  lost  and  much  of  the  interest  be  thus  destroyed  The  usual  Balzac 
compactness  is  of  course  present  throughout,  to  give  body  and  significance  to  the 
work,  and  the  stage  is  crowded  with  impressive  figures.  It  would  be  impossible 
to  find  a  book  which  gives  a  better  or  more  faithful  illustration  of  one  of  the 
strangest  periods  in  French  history,  in  short ;  and  its  attraction  as  a  story  is  at 
least  equalled  by  its  value  as  a  true  picture  of  the  time  it  is  concerned  with.  The 
translation  is  as  spirited  and  close  as  Miss  Wormeley  has  taught  us  to  expect  in 
this  admirable  series.  —  New  York  Tribime. 

One  of  the  most  intensely  interesting  novels  that  Balzac  ever  wrote  is  An 
Historical  Mystery,  whose  translation  has  just  been  added  to  the  preceding 
novels  that  compose  the  "Comedie  Humaine  "  so  admirably  translated  by  Miss 
Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley.  The  story  opens  in  the  autumn  of  1803,  in  the 
time  of  the  Empire,  and  the  motive  is  in  deep-laid  political  plots,  which  are  re- 
vealed with  the  subtle  and  ingenious  skill  that  marks  the  art  of  Balzac.  .  .  The 
story  is  a  deep-laid  political  conspiracy  of  the  secret  service  of  the  ministry  of 
the  police.  Talleyrand,  M'lle  de  Cinq-Cvgne,  the  Princess  de  Cadigan,  Louis 
XVIII.,  as  well  as  Napoleon,  figure  as  characters  of  this  thrilling  historic  ro- 
mance. An  absorbing  love-story  is  also  told,  in  which  State  intrigue  plays  an 
important  part.  The  character-drawing  is  faithful  to  history,  and  the  story  illu- 
minates French  life  in  the  early  years  of  the  century  as  if  a  calcium  light  were 
thrown  on  the  scene. 

It  is  a  romance  of  remarkable  power  and  one  of  the  most  deeply  fascinating 
of  all  the  novels  of  the  ''Comedie  Humaine." 


Sold  by  all  booksellers.     Mailed,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of 
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ROBERTS   BROTHERS,   Boston. 


Balzac  in  English. 


Albert    Savarus,    with    Paz   (La    Fausse 
Maitresse)  and   Madame  Firmiani.    By 

Honore  de  Balzac.     Translated   by  Katharine  Prescott 
Wormeley. 

There  is  much  in  this,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  his  books, 
which  is  synonymous  with  Balzac's  own  life.  It  is  the  story  of  a  man's 
first  love  for  woman,  his  inspirer,  the  source  from  whom  he  derives 
his  power  of  action.  It  also  contains  many  details  on  his  habits  of 
life  and  work. 

The  three  short  stories  in  this  volume, —  'Albert  Savarus,*  'Paz'  and  '  Madame 
Firmiani' — are  chips  from  that  astounding  workshop  which  never  ceased  its  Hephces- 
tian  labors  and  products  until  Balzac  was  no  more  Short  stories  of  this  character 
flew  from  his  glowing  forge  like  sparks  from  an  anvil,  the  playthings  of  an  idle  hour, 
the  interludes  of  a  more  vivid  drama.  Three  of  them  gathered  here  illustrate  as 
usual  Parisian  and  provincial  life,  two  in  a  very  noble  fashion,  Balzacian  to  the  core. 
The  third  — '  Albert  Savarus' — has  many  elements  of  tragedy  and  grandeur  in  it, 
spoiled  only  by  an  abruptness  in  the  conclusion  and  an  accumulation  of  unnecessary 
horrors  that  chill  the  reader.     It  is  a  block  of  tragic  marble  hewn,  not  to  a  finish,  but 

to  a  fine  prophetic  suggestion  of  what  is  to  follow  if !     The  if  never  emerges 

from  conditionality  to  fulfilment.  The  beautiful  lines  and  sinuous  curves  of  the 
nascent  statue  are  there,  not  fully  born  of  the  encasing  stone  ;  what  sculptors  call  the 
'tenons'  show  in  all  their  visibility  —  the  supports  and  scaffoldings  reveal  their 
presence  ;  the  forefront  is  finished  as  in  a  Greek  metope  or  Olympian  tympanum, 
where  broken  Lapiths  and  Centaurs  disport  themselves ;  but  the  background  is  rude 
and  primitive. 

In  '  Madame  Firmiani'  a  few  brilliant  pages  suffice  to  a  perfect  picture, —  one  of 
the  few  spotless  pictures  of  this  superb  yet  sinning  magician  so  rich  in  pictures.  It  is 
French  nature  that  Balzac  depicts,  warm  with  all  the  physical  impulses,  undisguised 
in  its  assaults  on  the  soul,  ingeniously  sensual,  odiously  loose  in  its  views  of  marriage 
and  the  marriage  relation,  but  splendidly  picturesque.  In  this  brief  romance  noble 
words  are  wedded  to  noble  music.  In  '  Paz  '  an  almost  equal  nobility  of  thought  — 
the  nobility  of  self-renunciation — is  attained.  Balzac  endows  his  men  and  women 
with  happy  millions  and  unhappy  natures:  the  red  ruby  —  the  broken  heart  —  blazes 
in  a  setting  of  gold.  '  Paz,'  the  sublime  Pole  who  loves  the  wife  of  his  best  friend, 
a  Slav  Croesus,  is  no  exception  to  the  rule.  The  richest  rhetoric,  the  sunniest  colors, 
fail  to  counteract  the  Acherontian  gloom  of  these  lives  and  sorrows  snatched  from  the 
cauldron  of  urban  and  rural  France,  —  a  cauldron  that  burns  hotter  than  any  other 
with  its  strange  Roman  and  Celtic  ardors.  Balzac  was  perpetually  dipping  into  it  and 
drawing  from  it  the  wonderful  and  extraordinary  incidents  of  his  novels,  incidents  often 
monstrous  in  their  untruth  if  looked  at  from  any  other  than  a  French  point  of  view. 
Thus,  the  devilish  ingenuity  of  the  jealous  woman  in  '  Albert  Savarus'  would  seem 
unnatural  anywhere  else  than  in  the  sombre  French  provinces  of  1836, —  a  toadstool 
sprung  up  in  the  rank  moonlight  of  the  religious  conventual  system  of  education  for 
women  ;  but  there,  and  then,  and  as  one  result  of  this  system  of  repression,  it 
seems  perfectly  natural.  And  so  does  the  beautiful  self-abnegation  of  Albert  himself, 
that  high-strung  soul  that  could  have  been  born  only  in  nervous  and  passionate 
France. 

As  usual,  Miss  Wormeley's  charming  translation  floats  the  reader  over  these 
pages  in  the  swiftest  and  airiest  manner. —  The  Critic. 

One  handsome  i2mo  volume,  uniform  with  "  Pere  Goriot,"  "  The 
Duchesse  de  Langeais,"  "  Cesar  Birotteau,"  "  Eugenie  Grandet," 
"  Cousin  Pons,"  "  The  Country  Doctor,"  "  The  Two  Brothers,"  and 
"  The  Alkahest."     Half  morocco,  French  style.     Price,  $1.50. 


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A  MEMOIR  OF  HONORE  DE  BALZAG. 


Compiled  and  written  by  Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley,  translator 
of  Balzac's  works.  With  portrait  of  Balzac,  taken  one  hour  after 
death,  by  Eugene  Giraud,  and  a  Sketch  of  the  Prison  of  the  College 
de  Vendome.  One  volume,  i2mo.  Half  Russia,  uniform  with  our 
edition  of  Balzac's  works.     Price,  #1.50. 

A  complete  life  of  Balzac  can  probably  never  be  written.  The  sole  object  of 
the  present  volume  is  to  present  Balzac  to  American  readers.  This  memoir  is 
meant  to  be  a  presentation  of  the  man,  —  and  not  of  his  work,  except  as  it  was  a 
part  of  himself,  —  derived  from  authentic  sources  of  information,  and  presented  in 
their  own  words,  with  such  simple  elucidations  as  a  close  intercourse  with  Balzac's 
mind,  necessitated  by  conscientious  translation,  naturally  gives.  The  portrait 
in  this  volume  was  considered  by  Madame  de  Balzac  the  best  likeness  of  her 
husband. 

Miss  Wormeley's  discussion  of  the  subject  is  of  value  in  many  ways,  and  it  has 
long  been  needed  as  a  help  to  comprehension  of  his  life  and  character.  Person- 
ally, he  lived  up  to  his  theory.  His  life  was  in  fact  austere.  Any  detailed  ac- 
count of  the  conditions  under  which  he  worked,  such  as  are  given  in  this  volume, 
will  show  that  this  must  have  been  the  case ;  and  the  fact  strongly  reinforces  the 
doctrine.  Miss  Wormeley,  in  arranging  her  account  of  his  career,  has,  almost 
of  necessity,  made  free  use  of  the  letters  and  memoir  published  by  Balzac's  sister, 
Madame  Surville.  She  has  also,  whenever  it  would  serve  the  purpose  of  illus- 
tration better,  quoted  from  the  sketches  of  him  by  his  contemporaries,  wisely 
rejecting  the  trivialities  and  frivolities  by  the  exaggeration  of  which  many  of  his 
first  chroniclers  seemed  bent  upon  giving  the  great  author  a  kind  of  opera-bouffe 
aspect.  To  judge  from  some  of  these  accounts,  he  was  flighty,  irresponsible, 
possibly  a  little  mad,  prone  to  lose  touch  of  actualities  by  the  dominance  of  his 
imagination,  fond  of  wild  and  impracticable  schemes,  and  altogether  an  eccentric 
and  unstable  person.  But  it  is  not  difficult  to  prove  that  Balzac  was  quite  a 
different  character ;  that  he  possessed  a  marvellous  power  of  intellectual  organi- 
zation ;  that  he  was  the  most  methodical  and  indefatigable  of  workers;  that  he 
was  a  man  of  a  most  delicate  sense  of  honor ;  that  his  life  was  not  simply  de- 
voted to  literary  ambition,  but  was  a  martyrdom  to  obligations  which  were  his 
misfortune,  but  not  his  fault. 

All  this  Miss  Wormley  has  well  set  forth  ;  and  in  doing  so  she  has  certainly 
relieved  Balzac  of  much  unmerited  odium,  and  has  enabled  those  who  have  not 
made  a  study  of  his  character  and  work  to  understand  how  high  the  place  is  in 
any  estimate  of  the  helpers  of  modern  progress  and  enlightenment  to  which  his 
genius  and  the  loftiness  of  his  aims  entitle  him.  This  memoir  is  a  very  modest 
biography,  though  a  very  good  one.  The  author  has  effaced  herself  as  much  as 
possible,  and  has  relied  upon  "  documents  "  whenever  they  were  trustworthy.  — 
N.  Y.  Tribune. 


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Balzac  in  English. 


PIERRETTE 


AND 


The  Vicar    ok   Tours. 

BY   HONORS   DE   BALZAC. 
Translated  by  Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley. 


In  Pierrette,  which  Miss  Wormeley  has  added  to  her  series  of  felicitous 
translations  from  the  French  master-fictionists,  Balzac  has  made  within 
brief  compass  a  marvellously  sympathetic  study  of  the  martyrdom  of  a 
young  girl.  Pierrette,  a  flower  of  Brittany,  beautiful,  pale,  and  fair  and 
sweet,  is  taken  as  an  undesired  charge  by  sordid-minded  cousins  in  Pro- 
vins,  and  like  an  exotic  transplanted  into  a  harsh  and  sour  so'l  she  withers 
and  fades  under  the  cruel  conditions  of  her  new  environment.  Inciden- 
tally Balzac  depicts  in  vivid  colors  the  struggles  of  two  shon-keepers  —  a 
brother  and  sister,  who  have  amassed  a  little  fortune  in  Paris  —  to  gain  a 
foothold  among  the  bourgeoisie  of  their  native  town.  These  two  become 
the  prey  of  conspirators  for  political  advancement,  and  the  rivalries  thus 
engendered  shake  the  small  provincial  society  to  its  centre.  Put  the 
charm  of  the  tale  is  in  the  portrayal  of  the  character  of  Pierretle,  who 
understands  only  how  to  love,  and  who  cannot  live  in  an  atmosphere  of 
suspicion  and  ill-treatment.  The  story  is  of  course  sad,  but  its  fidelity  to 
life  and  the  pathos  of  it  are  elements  of  unfailing  interest.  Balzac  brings 
a  score  or  more  of  people  upon  the  stage,  shows  each  one  as  he  or  she 
really  is  both  in  outward  appearance  and  inward  nature,  and  then  allows 
motives  and  circumstances  to  work  out  an  inevitable  result.  To  watch 
this  process  is  like  being  present  at  some  wonderful  chemical  experiment 
where  the  ingredients  are  mixed  with  a  deft  and  careful  hand,  and  combine 
to  produce  effects  of  astonishing  significance.  The  social  genesis  of  the 
old  maid  in  her  most  abhorrent  form  occupies  much  of  Balzac's  attention 
in  Pierrette,  and  this  theme  also  has  a  place  in  the  story  of  The  Vicar  of 
Tours,  bound  up  in  this  same  volume.  The  vicar  is  a  simple-minded 
priest  who  is  happy  enough  till  he  takes  up  his  quarters  with  an  old  maid 
landlady,  who  pesters  and  annoys  him  in  many  ways,  and  finally  sends  him 
forth  despoiled  of  his  worldly  goods  and  a  laughing-stock  for  the  country- 
side. There  is  a  great  deal  of  humor  in  the  tale,  but  one  must  confess 
that  the  humor  is  of  a  rather  heavy  sort,  it  being  weighed  dowrn  by  a  domi- 
nant satirical  purpose.  —  The  Beacon. 

One  handsome  i2mo  volume,  uniform  with  "  Pere  Goriot," 
"  The  Duchesse  de  Langeais,"  "  Cesar  Birotteau,"  "  Eugenie 
Grandet,"  "  Cousin  Pons,"  "  The  Country  Doctor,"  "  The  Tw« 
Brothers,"  and  "  The  Alkahest."  Half  morocco,  French  style 
Price,  $1.50. 


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Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


BALZAC   IN   ENGLISH. 


Lost  Illusions :  Tie  Two  Poets,  and  Eve  end  David. 

By   HONORE   DE    BALZAC. 


S 


eing  the  twenty-third  volume  of  Miss  Wormeley's  translation  of 
Balzac's  novels.     i2mo.     Half  Russia.     Price,  $1.50. 

For  her  latest  translation  of  the  Balzac  fiction  cycle,  Miss  Wormeley  gives  us 
the  first  and  third  parts  of  "Illusion  Perdue,"  under  the  caption  of  "Lost 
Illusions,"  namely,  "The  Two  Poets"  and  "  Eve  and  David."  This  arrange- 
ment is  no  doubt  a  good  one,  for  the  readers  are  thus  enabled  to  follow  the  consecu- 
tive fortunes  of  the  Angouleme  folk,  while  the  adventures  of  Eve's  poet-brother, 
Lucien,  which  occur  in  Pans  and  make  a  tale  by  themselves,  are  thus  left  for  a 
separate  publication.  The  novel,  as  we  have  it,  then,  belongs  to  the  category  of 
those  scenes  from  provincial  life  which  Balzac  found  so  stimulating  to  his  genius. 
This  story,  certainly,  in  some  respects  takes  high  rank  among  them.  The 
character-drawing  is  fine:  Lucien,  the  ambitious,  handsome,  weak-willed,  selfish, 
and  easily-sinning  young  bourgeois,  is  contrasted  with  David,  —  a  touching  picture 
of  the  struggling  inventor,  born  of  the  people  and  sublimely  one-purposed  and 
pure  in  his  life.  Eve,  the  type  of  a  faithful  large-brained  and  larger-hearted  wife, 
who  supports  her  husband  through  all  his  hardships  with  unfaltering  courage  and 
kindness,  is  another  noble  creation.  David  inherits  a  poorish  "printing  business 
from  his  skin-flint  of  a  father,  neglects  it  while  devoting  all  his  time  and  energy  to 
his  discovery  of  an  improved  method  of  making  paper ;  and  through  the  evil 
machinations  of  the  rival  printing  firm  of  the  Cointets,  as  well  as  the  debts  foisted 
on  him  by  Lucien  in  Paris,  he  is  brought  into  money  difficulties  and  even  into 
prison.  But  his  invention,  although  sold  at  a  sacrifice  to  the  cunning  Cointets, 
gets  him  out  of  the  hole  at  last,  and  he  and  his  good  wife  retire  on  a  comfortable 
competency,  which  is  augmented  at  the  death  of  his  father  into  a  good-sized 
fortune.  The  seamy  side  of  law  in  the  provinces  is  shown  up  in  Balzac's  keen, 
inimitable  way  in  the  description  of  the  winding  of  the  coils  around  the  unsuspect- 
ing David  and  the  depiction  of  such  men  as  the  brothers  Cointets  and  the  shrewd 
little  petifogging  rascal,  Petit  Claud.  The  pictures  of  Angouleme  aristocratic 
circles,  too,  with  Lucien  as  high  priest,  are  vivacious,  and  show  the  novelist's 
wonderful  observation  in  all  ranks  of  life.  The  bit  of  wild  romance  by  which 
Lucien  becomes  the  secretary  of  a  Spanish  grandee  lends  a  fairy-tale  flavor  to  tne 
main  episodes.  Balzac,  in  whom  is  united  the  most  lynx-eyed  realism  and  the 
most  extravagant  romanticism,  is  ever  and  always  one  of  the  great  masters  in 
fiction  of  our  century. 


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Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Pitblicatio7is. 


BALZAC    IN    ENGLISH. 


A  Great  Man  of  the  Provinces  in  Paris. 

By   HONORE    DE    BALZAC. 

Being  the  second  part  of  "  Lost  Illusions."     Translated  by  Kath- 
arine Prescott  Wormeley.     i2mo.     Half  Russia.     Price,  $1.50. 

We  are  beginning  to  look  forward  to  the  new  translations  of  Balzac  by  Katha- 
rine Wormeley  almost  as  eagerly  as  to  the  new  works  of  the  best  contemporary 
writers.  But,  unlike  the  writings  of  most  novelists,  Balzac's  novels  cannot  be 
judged  separately.  They  belong  together,  and  it  is  impossible  to  understand  the 
breadth  and  depth  of  the  great  writer's  insight  into  human  life  by  reading  any 
one  volume  of  this  remarkable  series.  For  instance,  we  rise  from  the  reading  of 
this  last  volume  feeling  as  if  there  was  nothing  high  or  noble  or  pure  in  life.  But 
what  would  be  more  untrue  than  to  fancy  that  Balzac  was  unable  to  appreciate 
the  true  and  the  good  and  the  beautiful  !  Compare  "  The  Lily  of  the  Valley  " 
or  "  Seraphita  "  or  "Louis  Lambert"  with  "The  Duchesse  of  Langeais"  and 
"  Cousin  Bette,"  and  then  perhaps  the  reader  will  be  able  to  criticise  Balzac  with 
some  sort  of  justice.  — Boston  Tra7iscript. 

Balzac  paints  the  terrible  verities  of  life  with  an  inexorable  hand.  The  siren 
charms,  the  music  and  lights,  the  feast  and  the  dance,  are  presented  in  voluptu- 
ous colors —  but  read  to  the  end  of  the  book!  There  are  depicted  with  equal 
truthfulness  the  deplorable  consequences  of  weakness  and  crime.  Some  have 
read  Balzac's  "  Cousin  Bette  "  and  have  pronounced  him  immoral ;  but  when 
the  last  chapter  of  any  of  his  novels  is  read,  the  purpose  of  the  whole  is  clear,  and 
immorality  cannot  be  alleged.  Balzac  presents  life.  His  novels  are  as  truthful 
as  they  are  terrible.  —  Springfield  Union. 

Admirers  of  Balzac  will  doubtless  enjoy  the  mingled  sarcasm  and  keen  analy- 
sis of  human  nature  displayed  in  the  present  volume,  brought  out  with  even  more 
than  the  usual  amount  of  the  skill  and  energy  characteristic  of  the  author.  — 
Pittsburgh  Post. 

The  art  of  Balzac,  the  wonderful  power  of  his  contrast,  the  depth  of  his 
knowledge  of  life  and  men  and  things,  this  tremendous  story  illustrates.  How 
admirably  the  rise  of  the  poet  is  traced  ;  the  crescendo  is  perfect  in  gradation,  yet 
as  inexorable  as  fate!  As  for  the  fall,  the  effect  is  more  depressing  than  a 
personal  catastrophe.  This  is  a  book  to  read  over  and  over,  an  epic  of  life  in 
prose,  more  tremendous  than  the  blank  verse  of  "  Paradise  Lost "  or  the 
"Divine  Comedy."  Miss  Wormeley  and  the  publishers  deserve  not  congratula- 
tions aione,  but  thanks  for  adding  this  book  and  its  predecessor,  "  Lost  Illusions," 
to  the  literature  of  English.  —  San  Francisco  Wave. 


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BALZAC    IN    ENGLISH. 


THE  BROTHERHOOD  OF  CONSOLATION. 

(L'ENVERS  DE  L'HISIOIRE  CONTEMPORAINE.) 

By   HONORE   DE   BALZAC. 

t.  Madame  de  la  Chanterie.  2.  The  Initiate.  Translated  by 
Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley.  i2mo.  Half  Russia.  Price, 
$1.50. 

There  is  no  book  of  Balzac  which  is  informed  by  a  loftier  spirit  than 
"L'Envers  de  1'Histoire  Contemporaine,"  which  has  just  been  added  by  Miss 
Wormeley  to  her  admirable  series  of  translations  under  the  title,  "  The  Brother- 
hood of  Consolation."  The  title  which  is  given  to  the  translation  is,  to  our 
thinking,  a  happier  one  than  that  which  the  work  bears  in  the  original,  since,  after 
all,  the  political  and  historical  portions  of  the  book  are  only  the  background  of  the 
other  and  more  absorbing  theme,  —  the  development  of  the  brotherhood  over 
which  Madame  de  la  Chanterie  presided.  It  is  true  that  there  is  about  it  all 
something  theatrical,  something  which  shows  the  French  taste  for  making  godli- 
ness itself  histrionically  effective,  that  quality  of  mind  which  would  lead  a  Parisian 
to  criticise  the  coming  of  the  judgment  angels  if  their  entrance  were  not  happily 
arranged  and  properly  executed  ;  but  in  spite  of  this  there  is  an  elevation  such  as 
it  is  rare  to  meet  with  in  literature,  and  especially  in  the  literature  of  Balzac's  age 
and  land.  The  story  is  admirably  told,  and  the  figure  of  the  Baron  Bourlac  is 
really  noble  in  its  martyrdom  of  self-denial  and  heroic  patience.  The  picture  of 
the  Jewish  doctor  is  a  most  characteristic  piece  of  work,  and  shows  Balzac's 
intimate  touch  in  every  line.  Balzac  was  always  attracted  by  the  mystical  side 
of  the  physical  nature  ;  and  it  might  almost  be  said  that  everything  that  savored 
of  mystery,  even  though  it  ran  obviously  into  quackery,  had  a  strong  attraction 
for  him.  He  pictures  Halpersohn  with  a  few  strokes,  but  his  picture  of  him  has 
a  striking  vitality  and  reality.  The  volume  is  a  valuable  and  attractive  addition  to 
the  series  to  which  it  belongs  ;  and  the  series  comes  as  near  to  fulfilling  the  ideal 
of  what  translations  should  be  as  is  often  granted  to  earthly  things.  —  Boston 
Courier. 

The  book,  which  is  one  of  rare  charm,  is  one  of  the  most  refined,  while  at  the 
same  time  tragic,  of  all  his  works.  — Public  Opinion. 

His  present  work  is  a  fiction  beautiful  in  its  conception,  just  one  of  those 
practical  ideals  which  Balzac  nourished  and  believed  in.  Tliere  never  was  greater 
homage  than  he  pays  to  the  book  of  books,  "  The  Imitation  of  Jesus  Christ." 
Miss  Wormeley  has  here  accomplished  her  work  just  as  cleverly  as  in  her  other 
volumes  of  Balzac. — N.  Y.  Times. 


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THE  VILLAGE  RECTOR. 

By  Honore  de  Balzac. 

Translated  by  Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley.     12010. 
Half  Russia.     Price,  #1.50. 


Once  more  that  wonderful  acquaintance  which  Balzac  had  with  all  callings 
appears  manifest  in  this  work.  Would  you  get  to  the  bottom  of  the  engineer's 
occupatiou  in  France?  Balzac  presents  it  in  the  whole  system,  with  its  aspects, 
disadvantages,  and  the  excellence  of  the  work  accomplished.  We  write  to-day 
of  irrigation  and  of  arboriculture  as  if  they  were  novelties  ;  yet  in  the  waste  lands 
of  Montagnac,  Balzac  found  these  topics ;  and  what  he  wrote  is  the  clearest 
exposition  of  the  subjects. 

But,  above  all,  in  "The  Village  Rector"  is  found  the  most  potent  of  religious 
ideas,  —  the  one  that  God  grants  pardon  to  sinners.  Balzac  had  studied  and 
appreciated  the  intensely  human  side  of  Catholicism  and  its  adaptiveness  to  the 
wants  of  mankind.  It  is  religion,  with  Balzac,  "  that  opens  to  us  an  inexhaustible 
treasure  of  indulgence."     It  is  true  repentance  that  saves. 

The  drama  which  is  unrolled  in  "The  Village  Rector"  is  a  terrible  one,  and 
perhaps  repugnant  to  our  sensitive  minds.  The  selection  of  such  a  plot,  pitiless 
as  it  is,  Balzac  made  so  as  to  present  the  darkest  side  of  human  nature,  and  to 
show  how,  through  God's  pity,  a  soul  might  be  saved.  The  instrument  of  mercy 
is  the  Rector  Bonnet,  and  in  the  chapter  entitled  "  The  Rector  at  Work  "  he 
shows  how  religion  "  extends  a  man's  life  beyond  the  world."  It  is  not  sufficient 
to  weep  and  moan.  "That  is  but  the  beginning;  the  end  is  action."  The 
rector  urges  the  woman  whose  sins  are  great  to  devote  what  remains  of  her  life 
to  work  for  the  benefit  of  her  brothers  and  sisters,  and  so  she  sets  about  reclaim- 
ing the  waste  lands  which  surround  her  chateau.  With  a  talent  of  a  superlative 
order,  which  gives  grace  to  Veronique,  she  is  like  the  Madonna  of  some  old  panel 
of  Van  Eyck's.  Doing  penance,  she  wears  close  to  her  tender  skin  a  haircloth 
vestment.  For  love  of  her,  a  man  has  committed  murder  and  died  and  kept  his 
secret.  In  her  youth,  Veronique's  face  had  been  pitted,  but  her  saintly  life  had 
obliterated  that  spotted  mantle  of  smallpox.  Tears  had  washed  out  every  blemish. 
If  through  true  repentance  a  soul  was  ever  saved,  it  was  Veronique's.  This 
work,  too,  has  afforded  consolation  to  many  miserable  sinners,  and  showed  them 
the  way  to  grace. 

The  present  translation  is  to  be  cited  for  its  wonderful  accuracy  and  its  literary 
distinction.  We  can  hardly  think  of  a  more  difficult  task  than  the  Englishing  of 
Balzac,  and  a  general  reading  public  should  be  grateful  for  the  admirable  manner 
in  which  Miss  Wormeley  has  performed  her  task.  — New  York  Times. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers.     Mailed,  post-paid,  on  receipt 
of  price  by  the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,   Boston,  Mass. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publicatio7is. 


2Bal3ac  in  <£nglx£f). 


iEiOIRS  OF  TWO  YOUNC  MARRIED  WOMEN. 

By  Honore  de  Balzac. 

Translated  by  Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley.     12  mo. 
Half  Russia.     Price,  $1.50. 


"  There  are,"  says  Henry  James  in  one  of  his  essays,  "two  writers  in 
Balzac,  —  the  spontaneous  one  and  the  reflective  one,  the  former  of 
which  is  much  the  more  delightful,  while  the  latter  is  the  more  extraordi- 
nary." It  is  the  reflective  Balzac,  the  Balzac  with  a  theory,  whom  we 
get  in  the  "  Deux  Jeunes  Mariees,"  now  translated  by  Miss  Wormeley 
under  the  title  of  "  Memoirs  of  Two  Young  Married  Women."  The 
theory  of  Balzac  is  that  the  marriage  of  convenience,  properly  regarded, 
is  far  preferable  to  the  marriage  simply  from  love,  and  he  undertakes  to 
prove  this  proposition  by  contrasting  the  careers  of  two  young  girls  who 
have  been  fellow-students  at  a  convent.  One  of  them,  the  ardent  and 
passionate  Louise  de  Chaulieu,  has  an  intrigue  with  a  Spanish  refugee, 
finally  marries  him,  kills  him,  as  she  herself  confesses,  by  her  perpetual 
jealousy  and  exaction,  mourns  his  loss  bitterly,  then  marries  a  golden- 
haired  youth,  lives  with  him  in  a  dream  of  ecstasy  for  a  year  or  so,  and 
this  time  kills  herself  through  jealousy  wrongfully  inspired.  As  for  her 
friend,  Renee  de  Maucombe,  she  dutifully  makes  a  marriage  to  please  her 
parents,  calculates  coolly  beforehand  how  many  children  she  will  have  and 
how  they  shall  be  trained;  insists,  however,  that  the  marriage  shall  be 
merely  a  civil  contract  till  she  and  her  husband  find  that  their  hearts  are 
indeed  one;  and  sees  all  her  brightest  visions  realized,  —  her  Louis  an 
ambitious  man  for  her  sake  and  her  children  truly  adorable  creatures. 
The  story,  which  is  told  in  the  form  of  letters,  fairly  scintillates  with 
brilliant  sayings,  and  is  filled  with  eloquent  discourses  concerning  the 
nature  of  love,  conjugal  and  otherwise.  Louise  and  Ren6e  are  both 
extremely  sophisticated  young  women,  even  in  their  teens  ;  and  those 
who  expect  to  find  in  their  letters  the  demure  innocence  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  type  will  be  somewhat  astonished.  The  translation,  under  the 
circumstances,  was  rather  a  daring  attempt,  but  it  has  been  most  felicit- 
ously done.  —  The  Deacon. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers.     Mailed,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of 
price  by  the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS,  Boston.  Mass. 


14  DAY  USE 

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LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 
on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


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